


Untouchable | Untameable

by Kestrel_sama



Series: Club Mercy [2]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Aftercare, BDSM, Bondage, Bratting as an Art Form, D/s, Did I say slow burn?, Dirty Talk, Hanzo is also a stubborn shit, I mean this is slow for me, Jesse is a stubborn shit, M/M, Responsible domming, Shibari, Slow Burn, Vibrators, consensual slut shaming more like, kinda slut shaming?, light footplay, sub!jesse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-03
Updated: 2017-08-30
Packaged: 2018-09-28 01:16:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 28,248
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10061378
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kestrel_sama/pseuds/Kestrel_sama
Summary: Jesse McCree is a terrible submissive. Hanzo Shimada is the Dom that every sub drools over. Stubborn meet stubborn, and in the end, someone's getting tied up.





	1. Chapter 1

“Look you smart-assed little shit...!” It was the start of a tirade, he could tell. 

He weren’t so little, Jesse considered, when the man hollerin at him was about six inches shorter. Didn’t even manage a good show of intimidation for all that he was supposed to be in charge. 

“I”ve about had enough of your attitude!” Yep, definitely a tirade a-comin’. Better cut him short before his arms started to go numb.

Jesse grinned a wolfish sort of grin, the kind that made men like _him,_ sputter in indignation. “Yeah, well I reckon I’ve had about enough of your attitude too. You talk a big game, but darlin’ yer about as threatenin’ as a toothless rattlesnake, an’ I think a wet noodle’d have better luck keepin’ me on leash.” 

Ahh there it was, the face turnin’ red, the sputterin’, the cussin’ and hollerin’ about what a terrible submissive he was. Behind the remorseless grin, Jesse was more than a little disappointed. He’d thought maybe this guy could handle him - sass and all - but he’d lasted a few months before showing that he was like the rest. 

Weak. 

“Look, if we’re about done here, I could use a drink, so if you’d kindly untie me, that’d be mighty domly of ya.” 

He shrugged slightly, muscles tensing beneath the leather straps and buckles that were currently biting into his skin. There was a tittering among the small group of those who’d been watching, those who’d placed bets on how long this one would last, and whether or not he’d get Jesse to kneel with only a look. 

Some of ‘em lost money on this one. 

The man spat at his feet, drawing a few scandalized gasps from the onlookers. “You’re not even a real submissive, are you?” Oh well now that was just downright mean. Out of the corner of his eye, Jesse saw Sombra moving in like a thundercloud, about to kick this joker’s ass right out of the club. “You’re just some hick playing games you don’t understand. No wonder Doms keep dropping you.” 

He turned and stalked away, pushing through the wide-eyed bystanders, Jesse’s mouth hanging slightly open. “...I DROPPED THEM, ASSHOLE!” he shouted after the guy belatedly, trying to ignore the way the accusations had made his gut twist uncomfortably. He wasn’t a fake, was he? 

“Oh, pobrecito,” Sombra sighed as she got to his side, her white and purple leather like some kind of angelic beacon in the darkness of the club. “You really gotta stop pissing ‘em off.” Her fingers were quick to unbuckle leather straps and untie the cords that left a rather red indent on the flesh of Jesse’s skin. He shrugged out of the restraints as she loosened them, kicking aside buckles with no small amount of bitterness. “Not my fault he couldn’t control a wet rag, much less little ol’ me,” he muttered, grabbing his shirt from the back of a nearby chair and pulling it over his head. 

Sombra snorted, the kind of noise that could be considered downright dismissive if he didn’t know better. (he did)

“Look, I’m not saying he was right for you, but don’t you think you’re going kind of hard on them? Dominant types like to have their ego stroked, you know? A little purring, a little panting, and they’re basically yours. Easy.” She acted like she knew what she was talking about, and he supposed she did, at least when it came to her Dominant. Jesse followed her to the bar,nodding to the bartender and catching the bottle slid to him across the polished wood.

Eyes scanned the club, tripping over leather and lace-clad bodies, ignoring the sounds of whips and squeals and grunts of pain, pleasure, and both. “Yeah well...maybe I don’t wanna submit to someone who needs their ego stroked,” he muttered, lips hovering over the lip of his bottle of beer. “Maybe I wanna give in to somebody who ain’t intimidated by my…” he waved a hand in a broad circle around himself, “...all my shit, y’know?” He looked down at the bar top, pushing one finger along the mirror-smooth surface. “I don’t wanna give anyone respect they ain’t earned.” 

Out of the corner of his eye, he caught one of Sombra’s manicured purple nails tapping the bar contemplatively. “Well, you are a stubborn pain in the ass,” she said finally, earning a grumpy frown from the southern boy at her side. “Not that that’s a bad thing! I think you just need to find...someone more stubborn than you are, comprende?” Jesse huffed a noise that was part sigh, part dismissive grunt. Brown eyes drifted upward to the balcony level where the patrons with more money than sense hung out. 

Up there was one guy that every sub in the place would give their left tit to submit to. 

Hanzo Shimada. 

Japanese guy, stern-faced and broad shouldered, with hands that you just knew could spank like the devil’s own shovels, and streaks of grey at the temples that made both panties and boxers drop at a nod. Had a way with rope that kept the best of them panting at his heels for even a chance to play with him. 

Jesse had no doubt that someone like him could sufficiently put and keep him in his place with only a glare. The thought made him squirm a little in his seat in all honesty. 

“Oh no, don’t even think about it,” Sombra laughed, poking the tip of his nose playfully. “They only allow good boys up there. Not brats like you and me…” she grinned at him then, eyes vulpine in their cleverness. “But if you’re nice, I might show you the code to the keypad for the elevator.” The look Jesse shot back at her was sharp and more than interested. “Now if that ain’t somethin’...Suppose you want somethin’ in return?” Plush lips twisted into a grin, purple lipstick dark even against her skin. “Just a favor in the future. Nothing big.” 

Jesse McCree knew when he was sellin’ his soul to the devil, but if it meant a chance to reel in a Dom like Hanzo Shimada, he’d sell more than his soul. “Well darlin, I reckon you’ve got yourself a deal.”


	2. Persistence

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hanzo finds himself on the wrong end of a hunt, and Jesse's real bad at taking no for an answer.

“Ahhh, brother I told you to place a wager on this one! I had a three-to-one bet that Jeffries would leave mid-scene. That barback owes me sixty dollars.” Genji was peering over the railing down at the main floor of the club, his suit rumpled and tie loose around his throat as he watched the spectacle with blatant interest.

 

Hanzo shook his head minutely as he poured himself another cup of sake from the bottle he was sharing with his younger brother. “If my memory is correct, your partner does not approve of you gambling,” he said evenly. His own suit was pristine in comparison to Genji’s, well-fitted, and it managed to emphasize the breadth of his shoulders without looking too snug. “Nor do I approve of you making wagers on people’s failed relationships.” 

 

Genji gave a groan of exasperation, hands clutching the railing as he leaned far enough backwards to look at his brother upside-down. “You’re a real downer, ya know? One of these days, somebody’s gonna get that stick outta your ass, and then who’ll be laughing?” 

 

Hanzo didn’t dignify that with a response. He didn’t have a stick up his ass! He just had…standards. And expectations. Things Genji wouldn’t understand, that much was certain. “Find someone else to bother before my thumb slips and I accidentally text your partner about your renewed gambling habits.” He said evenly, taking a very small amount of satisfaction in the way Genji straightened abruptly, turning around to face Hanzo properly as hands helplessly tried to smooth the front of his dinner jacket, an affronted expression on his face.

 

“Okay fine! Geez, leave Zen out of this,” he followed up with another mutter about the stick up Hanzo’s ass as he trudged off, presumably to go preemptively apologize to his lover before Hanzo could rat him out. Somewhat helpful that, his brother being so stupidly enamored of someone that he could be manipulated by the mere mention of them.

 

Convenient, especially when it meant that Hanzo could relax with his sake without the inane chatter that Genji spewed forth regardless of rhyme or reason. 

\---  
"No."

"Aww come on darlin' you haven't even heard what I was gonna propose."

It was bound to happen eventually. The cowboy had found his way upstairs and the first thing he did was made a beeline for Hanzo. Normally, when Hanzo cut people off, they cowered and slunk off with metaphorical tail between their legs. Not this one though. 

This one apparently wasn't taking no for an answer. 

"You were going to propose that I take you on as my submissive, were you not?" Hanzo asked smoothly before sipping the cup of tea cradled in his hands, his gaze unwavering on the scruffy man standing before him. McCree was the name if he recalled correctly from Genji's gambling. 

He had the brief satisfaction of seeing the cowboy stutter and turn faintly red. "Well now that's...I mean yeah but...not in so many..."

Hanzo lifted one hand up, silencing the other man. "Enough. Your reputation precedes you, mister McCree, and I am not interested in becoming a notch on your belt."

Jesse grew visibly agitated, an indignant expression on his face. "Now look here, I ain't countin' notches or anything like that, I just had a few bad matches is all. You ain't even given me a chance!" Hanzo graced him with a skeptical look, even as Jesse dropped to his knees. "I can be a real good boy, I just need a guy with a strong hand who don't feel the need to beat me just ta keep me in place. I seen the kind of Dom you are, and the way you tie a person up all pretty-like. I wanna be that person for you."

Maybe Jesse thought he saw an opening, a weakness in Hanzo's armor, because he shuffled closer, nudging between Hanzo's knees suggestively. "I'm good at lots of stuff, serving and the like..." the drawled promise was implicit, and more than anything else, it was that which firmed Hanzo's resolve. 

"No."

\--

Hanzo rather thought that would be the end of it, but the very next weekend McCree was after him again. To Hanzo's great misfortune, Genji was present this time and he had to endure both McCree's abrasive method of trying to win him over, and his brother's amused chortling. 

"I have already made myself clear mister McCree. I have no intentions of taking you on as a submissive. You are wasting your time."

There was something oddly endearing in the way Jesse's mouth pursed stubbornly, hips cocking to one side as he stood his ground. "And I made myself clear that I ain't givin' up till you give me a proper chance! That ain't so much to ask, is it?" Steadfastly ignoring Genji's strangled laughter, Hanzo rose to his feet, one hand held out in invitation. "Give me your hand," he said, noting the way Jesse's eyes lit up, like an excited puppy when he placed his hand over Hanzo's.

He almost felt bad about what was coming next. Almost.

Turning Jesse's palm over, Hanzo examined the work-calluses on that large hand held within his own. Fingers were dexterous but strong, and his wrist had enough muscle to keep it from hurting too bad. Abruptly manipulating his wrist into a joint lock, Hanzo drew a yelp from the taller man, swung him around until his arm was behind his back and frog-marched him over to the elevator. He endured the slew of curses tumbling from the cowboy's lips and pressed the call button. 

"Enough!" He grunted into Jesse's ear, a bit surprised when the other man went still and silent at the sharp reprimand. "You have been disrespectful enough. I grow tired of your games McCree. You say you wish to submit, to serve, but it appears that you only wish to serve your own desires. I will have no part of it."

With a final push, Hanzo released McCree into the elevator and heartily wished that he hadn't heard the man's subdued "yes, sir" as the doors slid closed. 

\--

"Are you not even a little tempted to try your hand at taming him?" Genji asked over dinner later that week. Hanzo's brow furrowed as he gave his brother an irritable look. 

"No."

That wasn't entirely true.

"Oh come on brother, he's a challenge!" Genji was far more invested in this than he had any right to be. Hell, knowing his brother he probably had money on it. 

"He's an irritation," Hanzo countered as he sliced into the steak he'd cooked them, spearing a piece onto his fork a bit more firmly than the tender meat required. 

"I thought you liked a challenge?" Yeah, Genji definitely had money riding on this. 

"And I thought you liked my cooking, yet you put your weekly invitation at risk by pursuing this thread of discussion."

The threat was enough to get his brother to change the subject for the rest of the evening. 

\--

The next weekend Hanzo found himself a bit relieved when he didn't find McCree waiting for him upstairs at the club. He was cautiously optimistic that he'd not get pounced on once again, but as the evening wore on without hide nor hair of the cowboy, relief met with a small inkling of worry. Just because he didn't want to end up as bragging rights for the man didn't mean he wanted him injured. 

It was probably nothing. He was likely sulking, or he'd moved on to easier targets. 

Hanzo blinked in confusion when one of the serving staff brought him a tray bearing a fine bottle of sake, and an envelope. "I did not order this," he protested as the envelope was set down on the table next to the sake. "No, sir, a patron had this sent up for you. Enjoy."

Frowning, Hanzo picked up the envelope, pulling out a handwritten note on the most appalling cowboy-themed stationary to ever exist. Squinting in the low light, he made out the loopy scrawl that merely read:

_I apologize for my disrespect._

-J

\----


	3. The Art of Cornering One's Quarry

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jesse might be stubborn, but he's no fool.

_"So disrespectful,"_

"I'm sorry sir. I'll be good for ya."

Jesse's left hand clumsily sped up over his cock, right arm twisted behind his back, pinned uncomfortably under his weight. Abs tensed, and the muscles in his thighs drew taut, hips rutting upwards. 

_"Do you think you deserve to cum?"_

Jesse groaned deep and raw, the wet slap of his fist against his groin the only other sound in the room. 

"No sir, I don't."

_"Hn. You're correct, but fortunately for you, I am benevolent. Do it."_

He whined, heels digging into the mattress, jaw clenched tight. So close! Heat swirled in his belly, pulled his balls tight to his body, and with a shout Jesse came. Sticky opaque steaks of white painted his belly, hips stuttering through the final throes of his orgasm. Cum seeped into the dark hair leading down to his groin. 

Jesse groaned, hand falling away from his spent cock and eyelids fluttering open. With a grunt, he lurched to one side, hauling his arm out from behind him and stretching sore muscles. 

"Shit."

He was alone in his room, and the fantasy had only strengthened his desire to kneel at Hanzo's feet as his boy. The way he'd deftly manhandled him to the elevator had provided the cowboy with fap material for weeks. Jesse didn't get off on being beaten up, but carefully applied pain without injury? Hoo boy, watch the floodgates open.

Too bad he'd pissed his chances away on lesser men that he rightly should've known couldn't handle him. He had only himself to blame for that, and because of it, Hanzo was more untouchable than ever.

With a soft groan, Jesse hauled himself upright, and staggered his way into the shower.

***

Wednesday night was dinner with his dads, which Jesse usually enjoyed, but Jack and Gabe were both way too perceptive for Jesse's peace of mind. He knew he didn't stand a chance of keeping his personal life to himself. 

They'd been perceptive enough to see through Jesse's bullshit when he was an angry teenager fresh out of juvie and just counting down the days to his birthday when he could get out of the system, and that was before they'd even adopted him. Now they could take one look at him and know when something was up. Canny old bastards. 

He managed to get halfway through his plate of tamales and rice without the subject of his shitty love life coming up, which was promising. Gabe was bitching about some incompetent little shit at work and Jack was slathering green chile over his food. It was nice. Domestic. Made Jesse almost forget he'd been pining over a guy so far out of his league they might as well have lived on opposite sides of the world. 

It was too good to last though, and at the first lull in the conversation, Jack pinned Jesse with those crazy blue eyes of his. "You finally end things with Jeffries?" he asked gruffly. Jesse nodded curtly, shoving a quarter of a tamale in his mouth so he couldn't be expected to elaborate. Gabriel snorted, shaking his head. "Good. That _pendejo_ wasn't worth your time. All talk, no game."

Jesse chuckled, nodding. They'd met Jeffries once when he and Jesse were headed out to the club, and Gabriel had immediately disliked the man. Then again, Gabriel disliked most of Jesse's boyfriends. Typical dad, he guessed, even if they weren't blood.

Gabe would have left it there, but Jack wasn't the kind of man to let himself be placated with half-truths. Jesse knew it and had half a mind to just keep shoving tamales into his face until he either exploded or Jack dropped the subject. He reached for the platter in the center of the table, scowling when Jack deftly moved it out of reach, irritatingly casual. 

"You seeing anyone else?"

Jesse shook his head, and shoved another third of a tamale into his mouth. There were only a few left on his plate, so he'd have to pace himself if he wanted to escape with dignity and privacy intact. 

He rarely won.

"You interested in anyone?"

Jesse froze, unable to conceal the emotions that flitted across his face rapid-fire. His chewing slowed and he shrugged after a minute. Daring a glance upwards, he could see that both Gabe and Jack were watching him now. 

"What's his name?" Gabriel asked casually. Too casually. The kind of casual that meant his dad was gonna misappropriate his work clearances to gather intel on Jesse's latest flame. In this case though...that would stir up a whole 'nother nest of hornets.

Jesse swallowed, taking a swig from the bottle of beer in front of him before responding in the only way he knew that might shut the conversation down. "Don't matter. He ain't interested." His dads wore a matching frown that brought a genuine chuckle out of him. "Y'all recall I'm a big boy, don'tcha? Twenty-five and you two act like I'm fifteen." 

Jack had the grace to look a bit abashed, though Gabe was still frowning, albeit a bit more softly. "We just wanna see you happy, kiddo," Jack said gruffly.

Jesse smiled. "Well I'd be mighty happy if you'd pass those tamales back this direction."

***

Later, when Jesse was headed out to his truck, Jack leaned back against Gabriel, nosing at his jaw. "He's not telling us everything." 

Gabriel snorted, arms wrapping around Jack's waist loosely. "He's a grown man _carino_. He doesn't have to." 

Jack sighed, lacing his fingers with Gabe's. "I'm still gonna find out who it is. Give that punk a piece of my mind. _Not interested_ my ass," he scoffed. Gabriel chuckled low, kissing the exposed side of Jack's neck. "Of course, _mi sol._ "

***

Jesse knew he'd taken a gamble in sending the sake and the note of apology to Hanzo last weekend. It had been a gamble which still remained to be seen if it would pay off. Worst case scenario, Hanzo would refuse it completely, best case scenario, he'd reach out to Jesse to see that he'd really learned his lesson.

The reality of his response seemed to have fallen somewhere in between, and it was _maddening_.

The report back from the waitress he'd sent up with the sake was that Hanzo had allowed her to deliver it, and that he'd looked at the note. But more than that? Silence.

Jesse wasn't great at being patient.

He managed to wait another week before the urge to force Hanzo to _look_ at him overwhelmed his already-stunted common sense. He hadn't been idle though, oh no, Sombra had helped him drag up a few key tidbits about the kind of things Hanzo liked to see in his boys, and Jesse found himself in debt that much more to her, but hell if he couldn't be assed to care about that. 

He'd learned a few very important things about Hanzo that he intended to make the most of, as he prepared for the evening. Jesse trimmed his beard neatly, whistling to himself as he cleaned up the edges of the scruff with a straight-razor. 

_Number one:_ Hanzo liked a man with neat facial hair. That much was evident, given the Japanese man's obsession with appearances. 

Jessie trimmed and carefully shaped the thatch of hair at his groin too, hopeful it would be seen, and not just as an exercise in optimism. 

_Number two:_ Hanzo favored a sub who knew how to serve, both sexually and in more domestic ways. 

If Som kept up her end of the deal, she'd have a prepped tray of sake and red bean cake from the nearby specialty bakery ready and waiting for Jesse when he arrived. (Serving as submissive to the club's owner gave Sombra a lot of leeway that Jesse was counting heavily on for this whole plan to work) Jesse had even been a good boy and done his homework on the Japanese method of pouring sake. He never did anything by halves when it counted. 

_Number three:_ Hanzo had a habit of gagging subs that talked too much.

Jesse already had that skill down pat. 

Getting Hanzo to play along was going to be the hard part.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dads in Love makes me happy, and you'll never take that from me. Thanks for all the kind comments and kudos! Next chapter things should be heating up so strap in! :3


	4. Mizuyokan and Patience

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jesse's plan takes him a bit longer than expected...maybe a lot longer. It's okay though, he's stubborn as a mule in a snowstorm. 
> 
> Hanzo realizes there might be more to this cowboy than he'd previously suspected.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is dedicated to Kembrelu. They know why.

Against all logic, Hanzo had kept the note. It sat innocuous on the inside of his breast pocket, folded into a neat little square, the edges slightly worn from being opened and re-read more than once. He should have thrown it away, just crumpled it up and tossed it in the garbage. He’d nearly done so twice, and each time, he re-folded it along the increasingly-worn folds and tucked it back in his pocket. 

It weighed on him, ridiculously so, for something so innocuous as an apology. 

He’d been unable to decide if the note was a final farewell from a man who’d finally taken Hanzo’s refusals to heart, if it was a manipulation meant to soften him towards a sub who was more interested in serving his own wants, or if it was a genuine apology, with no promise or implications meant other than the ones printed there on cowboy-themed stationery. 

Fingers traced the loopy scrawl of Jesse’s handwriting idly, a habit Hanzo had taken to during moments of introspection. 

Jesse had not been to the club in a week bordering on two, and Hanzo was starting to suspect that it was the first of those three options. Part of him was relieved, and part of him was a little...disappointed. A very small part. An infinitesimal part. 

Genji did not need to know that Hanzo did enjoy a challenge now and again, but Jesse McCree would not be that challenge after all, it seemed.  
Hanzo had come to terms with that fact, and it was with that thought in mind, he made his way to the club once the weekend rolled around, content to drink sake and watch the people around him engage in their own methods of play. His usual seat was empty and waiting for him when he arrived, and he settled in, knowing that a server would be by shortly for his drink order. 

Movement from the staff entrance caught his eye, and when he looked, Hanzo couldn’t help the brief widening of his eyes, nor the way his lips parted ever so slightly in surprise. 

The first thought that eeled its way through his mind was that Jesse cleaned up rather nicely. His beard was trimmed and his hair brushed back, a stray lock falling forward onto his brow. His button-up shirt was neatly pressed, and the sleeves were crisply rolled up to just beneath the elbow, showing off strong, hair-dusted forearms. 

He held his silence as Jesse approached, schooling his features into something a bit more neutral, one brow arched questioningly. It was hard to deny the tiny curl of pleasure when the cowboy approached him, eyes cast respectfully downward as he bent smoothly at the waist in a bow. The silence between them thickened as Jesse set a plate down on the table at Hanzo’s side, that curl of pleasure blooming outward when he saw what it was: 

_Mizuyokan_ , a dessert he’d not had since his childhood. He had the wherewithal to wonder where and how Jesse had procured such an obscure dessert. It had to have been special ordered, none of the bakeries in town carried it. (He knew, he’d checked when he first moved here, after all.)

Porcelain clinked lightly as a small cup was set down next to the plate, and Hanzo’s eyes slid to Jesse’s hands as the cowboy’s rough mitts delicately poured sake with grace, though the motion wasn’t practiced enough to be entirely effortless. The sake bottle was set down gently, and Jesse sunk to his knees next to Hanzo’s chair. 

Hanzo watched the man for several silent moments before reaching over to pluck up the cup between two fingers, lifting it to his lips and taking a sip. “This is not neccessary,” he said finally. “I have accepted your apology.” Jesse’s eyes lifted without straying above Hanzo’s collarbone. “That’s mighty kind of you, sir. Thank you, sir.” 

Hanzo grunted, taking another sip of the sake. “I am still not going to take you on as my submissive,” he added, unable to hold back the faint growl that accompanied his words. This had to be some sort of ploy after all. Why go to all this trouble if not to try to weasel his way back into Hanzo’s good graces?

Jesse nodded, daring to let his eyes flicker upwards to meet Hanzo’s gaze briefly before dipping downward once more. “I understand, sir.” Hanzo finished the small cup of sake and set it down. Before he could reach for the bottle himself to refill it, Jesse was up on his knees, refilling it carefully for him. One eye twitched. He wanted to be more irritated by such a blatant act than he actually was, which, in and of itself was irritating. 

Jesse managed to inspire irritation in spades, it seemed. 

“So what are you still doing here?” He almost felt bad about the slight flinch he saw hit Jesse’s shoulders, but managed to not let it sink too deep. This was merely a game for him, Hanzo was sure of it. He caught sight of Jesse’s throat bobbing as he swallowed and let his gaze linger on the way those strong fingers dug into his thighs as Jesse steadied himself. 

“Well sir, with all due respect, I know full well I ain’t...I ain’t your boy, but I’d like to make myself available if you get the urge to uh...practice...until you find a boy you want, I mean.” Jesse was nervous, that much was clear with the way he fidgeted, glanced over at a pair not far from them where a young man sat perfectly still, a paddle in his mouth balancing a drink for his mistress. Hanzo’s eyes followed Jesse’s gaze to Satya and her flavor of the week, musing. It had been quite a while since he’d…

No, no, no, this was just McCree trying to get under his skin and into his bed. He refused to be a notch on this boy’s bedpost. 

He was about to send him away when a much more pleasant idea sparked behind his eyelids. A small smile crept across Hanzo Shimada’s lips as he looked down at Jesse. Let him play his “good boy” game as long as he could manage. He would either get bored or impatient, and soon he’d be off to more entertaining prey without being able to claim he’d been too much for Hanzo. 

“Hm. You may stay. However, do not expect me to make use of you at all.” 

Something flashed over Jesse’s features, and he recognized it as that hopeful, puppydog look he’d given him once before...right before Hanzo had put him in a wrist-lock and removed him from the balcony. 

He valiantly pretended that the look had no effect on him whatsoever. 

“Thank you, sir. I ‘preciate that.” 

Hanzo grunted and turned his attention to the red bean cake, a small smile playing over his lips. 

*** 

Hanzo is unsurprised when Jesse shows up again the next weekend, freshly groomed once more, and ready to pour him a cup of sake. He looks good in blue, Shimada muses as eyes rake over the way Jesse’s shoulders fill out his button-up. 

Jesse fidgets a little throughout the night, fills his sake more gracefully than the week before, and Hanzo suspects that the boy won’t be around next week. 

Jesse proves him wrong and shows up again the week after that. He’s wearing red this time, a dark shade of red that evokes blood or wine. It compliments his tanned skin and chestnut hair quite nicely, but Hanzo is having a hard time focusing on that.

Jesse is _talking_. Incessantly. 

At first it was innocuous chatter, not dissimilar from their previous polite interactions. Jesse would pour his sake with an “Evenin’ sir, how was your day?” and Hanzo would mutter a response. The past few weeks that had been it, but today...today the boy just couldn’t seem to restrain himself, and it was wearing on Hanzo’s patience. 

“Well y’know how them baristas are, all chipper, even at ungodly hours o’ the mornin’. It ain’t right, is all!” 

“Jesse. Enough,” Hanzo grunted. The command earned him a few moments of silence to watch the show going on the main stage in relative peace, however he could tell from the boy’s impatient shifting that the silence would not last for long. 

“...I’m just sayin’ it’s a goddamn insult to normal folk who don’t wanna rise with the damned sun. Least they could do is pretend to be just as miserable as the rest of us.” 

Hanzo’s hand clenched, and in a swift motion he was waving over an attendant who fetched the bag of supplies he kept stashed here for the rare days he felt the urge to play in public. Rummaging through the bag, Hanzo withdrew a bit gag, fingers rubbing along the leather straps. A tremor of sadistic pleasure rippled along his nerve endings in a way he’d not indulged in a good long while, and he savored the way Jesse’s eyes went wide and round when he saw what Hanzo was holding. 

“N-now sir, I just want ya to know that I weren’t trying to be disrespectful, but ah…” 

“Open.” 

Jesse looked like he were about to melt into a puddle at the monosyllabic order, words dying on his tongue as his jaw dropped obediently. Hanzo was quick to push the bit between the young man’s teeth, tugging gently back on the leather straps so that it pulled uncomfortably at the corners of Jesse’s mouth before buckling it. He was careful to not catch any hairs in the band, and once he’d slid the tongue through the loop, Jesse gave a soft whimper, leaning into his leg. 

Stroking strong fingers through his brown hair, Hanzo let his hand rest atop Jesse’s head so that he could enjoy the rest of the show. He’d be lying if he said he didn’t enjoy the way Jesse sagged against him, body gone loose and relaxed. It was...almost as if the restraint of the gag was some sort of unspoken signal to the cowboy that he could relax. Something to think on later, perhaps. 

When the show was over almost an hour later, Hanzo rubbed a hand over the back of Jesse’s neck before moving to unbuckle the gag, careful to ease it out of the boy’s mouth without aggravating the reddened corners of his lips. Jesse looked up at him, eyes hazy and drool tracking down the sides of his chin. He worked his jaw momentarily before resting his forehead on Hanzo’s knee. 

“Thank you, sir.” 

Maybe the boy had some manners after all.


	5. Escort Mission

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry this took forever. I had surgery, went out of town for a week, came back to work and found out that three people had left, and am now on day six of my seven day work week. Forgive me.

The only problem with his plan, Jesse mused later that week as he shifted uncomfortably in his saddle, was that it left him more hard-up for the elegant Japanese man than ever before. He was embarrassed to admit even to himself that he hadn’t masturbated so much since he’d first hit puberty. He grunted, lips thinning tightly as Peacekeeper jarred him as she angled towards a calf that was straying from the rest of the herd. 

His dick was practically chafed, and his early morning wank in the shower before work that morning didn’t help matters none. Fortunately his co-workers seemed to take his unusual silence as him being in a bad mood and didn’t pester him about it aside from a curious glance now and then. 

Shit though, how was he supposed to keep his hands to himself after that night? _It was just a bit-gag, pendejo. Not like he fucked ya or anything._ He tried to remind himself of this fact, but his dick didn’t seem to care for the semantics. 

Jesse McCree had it bad, and the worst part of it was that Hanzo probably hadn’t thought on it even once. 

No, maybe the worst part was that Jesse wanted _more_ and he knew it wasn’t likely forthcoming any time soon. With a sigh, Jesse urged the last of his employer’s very expensive Aquitaine cattle into the south pasture and nudged the gate closed behind them. He leaned over Peacekeeper’s shoulder to punch in his code at the control box situated on one post, hearing the bolts slide into place. Damn critters had better security than most people did. 

Then again, most people weren’t worth what Blonde Aquitaines were either, so it made a twisted kind of sense. 

Just then he felt his phone buzz in his front pocket. Fishing it out, he squinted at the screen, seeing the text from Sombra. 

_12:47:00: Come meet me for lunch at Calaveras when you’re off work. The sooner you get here the more margarita there will be left for you in the pitcher._

Jesse groaned and tapped out an affirmative, hitting ‘send’ with no small amount of reluctance. Sombra and pitchers of margaritas usually meant a headache for Jesse. He couldn’t rightly say no though, could he? Especially since she was the one that helped make his pursuit of Hanzo possible. 

Reining Peacekeeper around, Jesse kicked his steel gray mare into a gallop back to the stables. 

***

_”Ay chingón!”_

Maybe taking a few minutes to shower up before meeting Sombra hadn’t been the best idea after all. “Well hello to you too, Som,” he drawled lazily. Making his way to her table, he eyed the quarter of a pitcher left before picking it up and taking a deep swig, foregoing a glass completely. She grinned at him, still managing to look mischievous, even with a drunken haze glazing her eyes. 

“So how was your tightass Yakuza? He fuck you yet?” Sombra queried elegantly. Jesse set down the pitcher, wiping his mouth with the back of his sleeve. “Naw, not yet. We’re gettin- Wait. Did you say ‘yakuza’?”

Sombra grinned at him, pink nails tapping over the surface of the table, and no answer forthcoming. Figures. Just like her to drop a nugget like that without any further explanation. Little shit. They were friends for a reason, he supposed.

A waiter came by with a rather reluctant glance towards Sombra before his attention moved onto Jesse. “Are you and your...companion...ready to order?” The tone of his voice was nothing if not dripping with disdain.

_”¡Chinga tu madre, cabrón!”_ Sombra hollered belligerently. Jesse spoke over her, leaning in towards the waiter with a charming grin. “Chimichanga special for the _lady_ here, and a relleno plate for me. There’s an extra twenty in it for ya make sure no one spits in it neither.” The incentive probably wasn’t necessary, but Jesse rather preferred to know that his food came with only the intended ingredients, and Sombra apparently hadn’t endeared them to the waitstaff at all. 

Once the waiter had left, Jesse swiped the pitcher of margarita away from Sombra’s questing fingers, taking another deep swig. “So, you wanna tell me why yer rip-roarin’ drunk before three in the afternoon?” he asked casually. Sombra pouted at the loss briefly before realizing that she still had a half-full glass on her side of the table. 

“I need you to come with me to a party.” She slammed back the last of her drink, giving a delicate belch in emphasis. “Not a fun party either. The fancy kind with suits and shit.” Jesse lifted an eyebrow at her. “No,” he responded immediately before adding, “When is it?” 

“Tomorrow night,” she said glumly.

Saturday night - the one night a week he got to sit at Hanzo’s feet and hope that the Japanese man would start to return his affections. 

“Definitely no.” 

Sombra’s eyes narrowed over the rim of her glass. “You owe me one, _cabron_. More than one actually.” 

Ah hell. 

“Seriously? You’re callin’ in a favor for this? The hell is this party about anyways? You hate shit like that.” McCree’s voice was incredulous, panic starting to well in his chest at the thought that maybe, just _maybe_ Hanzo was getting used to Jesse being there for him Saturday nights, and that he’d let his...well not _his_ , but he’d...he’d let Hanzo down! The thought was nearly unbearable.

He almost missed the bloom of red that spilled across his friend’s cheeks before she spoke, eyes turned down to her empty margarita glass. “It’s...part of a thing. For Fareeha. Angela wants me to go to this military ball or whatever for Fareeha’s promotion, and she ordered me to come with a friend who could keep an eye on me.” 

Jesse sat in shocked silence as steaming hot plates of glorious southwestern food were placed before them and their empty margarita pitcher replaced with a new one. Ten million thoughts ran rampant through Jesse’s mind, but the one that managed to blurt its way out from between his lips was “Yer girlfriends are fuckin’ crazy.”

Sombra laughed, picking up her fork and waving one hand at him. “You know I can’t deny them anything. They put up with my shit, so I gotta put up with theirs. And I do you favors, so you gotta do me favors in return. That’s how it works.” 

Jesse refilled Sombra’s margarita glass and finally filled his own all proper-like. “Alright, guess I’m obligated. What do I gotta do?”

***

When Jesse had agreed to escort Sombra to this military ball, maybe he should have realized (or guessed) that it wasn’t going to be a simple escort mission. Especially considering what he had heard about Angela as a domme.

_”Ay chingados! Joder!”_

Sitting back in the plush armchair, Jesse twirled his dress hat between his fingertips as he listened to Sombra cuss up a storm from her bedroom. Angela’s dulcet tones followed, muffled behind the door, and sticky-sweet as honey. 

It didn’t reassure Jesse in the least.

Finally Angela emerged from the bedroom, resplendent in a gold and white dress that hugged her slim waist and flared out at the hips into some gauzy flap at the back that looked nice but seemed pretty damn impractical. The bodice and high neck emphasized the smooth curvature of her breasts and long line of her neck and delicate collarbones. She looked like an angel. 

Jesse knew better.

Blue eyes landed on him as pink lips twisted into a wry smirk. “So good of you to accompany my pet, McCree.” Jesse nodded respectfully, gaze lingering somewhere around Angela’s shoulder. It was rude to look another dom in the eye, and he especially remembered that with the blonde. “Ain’t no trouble, ma’am.” Maybe if he was respectful and polite, she’d not ask anything mortifying of him. 

His gaze drifted down to Angela’s hand where she held a wireless remote, thumb moving the slider up and down slowly. It didn’t escape him that the cussing from Sombra got louder whenever that little slider moved upwards. 

“I have a task for you tonight, McCree, if you’d be so gracious to indulge me.” 

Blast and hell, he knew this was coming! He wondered briefly if he had time to make a run for it, favors be damned.

“Ma’am?” 

“Keep my pet in line this evening. She’s not to remove any of the accessories I’ve given her. She’s not to cause a scene. She will maintain _decorum_ throughout the evening until I summon her. Do you understand?” 

Even when it wasn’t his own dom givin the orders, Jesse had a visceral urge to please, so instead of running or refusing, he found himself nodding. “Yes ma’am. Uh...can I ask a small favor, if it wouldn’t be too forward?” 

He waited for Angela’s curt nod before continuing, tongue tracking over his lip as he looked aside, cheeks burning. “I uh...well Han- uh...Mister Shimada...I’ve uh...made myself available to him the past few weekends. Would ya mind mentioning to him that I was doin’ this tonight?” Teeth caught the inside of his cheek once more, worrying at the flesh on the inside of his mouth. 

“I just...don’t want him to think that I’m so flighty as all that, and I didn’t have his number to let him know I wouldn’t be there, and-”

Angela’s hand lifted, her palm turned outward and silencing Jesse’s babble. He bit down on his tongue hard, tasting blood on his palate, shoulder’s hunched slightly. Stomach twisting, Jesse squirmed in the heavy silence, only the muffled muttering of Sombra drifting out to the hallway. 

“Jesse McCree, Hanzo Shimada is a very good customer of my club. You’d better not be harassing him.” 

Angela’s tone was cold, sharp enough to cut and wielded to flay flesh from bone. Jesse shook his head. “No ma’am, just...tryin’ to prove that I can be good enough for him.” His chest tightened as he thought that maybe he’d never be good enough to really win Hanzo’s regard. 

Then he thought about Hanzo’s hand on the back of his neck, drool streaking wet and warm down his chin while his lips ached and jaw begged for relief from the bit-gag. His back straightened slightly as Angela let him stew in silence for another few moments. 

“I will consider it.” 

Breath whooshed out of Jesse as he deflated, nodding. “Thank ye, ma’am.” 

Angela strode past him, golden heels clicking on the marble tile of the hallway. “The car will be waiting for you and Sombra in five minutes. If she’s not out by then, carry her out.”

Jesse grimaced.

***

“I need to go to the bathroom.” 

Jesse nursed his whiskey, looking unimpressed at the whispered declaration from Sombra. She was leaning on his arm looking devastating and gorgeous simultaneously. Her floor-length red dress was skin-tight, a ruche of fabric draped enticingly across her breasts, framing tan clevage, and a slit in the skirt bared one leg up to the thigh. 

“Yer boss won’t be happy if you take any of them neat little toys out,” he murmured, nodding politely at yet another striking man in uniform as he passed. Sombra’s gloved hand clutched his bicep even tighter. 

“I’m serious, if you don’t let me go to the bathroom, I’m pissing right here on the floor.” 

Jesse gave Sombra a sidelong glance, measuring just how truthful she was being. There was a tightness around the corners of her eyes and a stiffness in her posture that put truth to her words. He grimaced. “I gotta go in with you. Make sure you don’t try nothin’ troublesome.” 

Sombra hissed a displeased noise, the sound fading to nothingness as they mingled near Angela and Fareeha, the latter looking quite sharp and commanding in her dark blue dress uniform, the colorful rank bars on her chest bright and shiny in the dim lights of the ballroom. A glance to his companion belied the vulnerable expression on her face. Jesse recognized that look, though he’d never really had occasion himself to wear it. 

It was devotion and longing and lust and love and bratty subservience rolled up into a messy little package, signed, sealed, and delivered just for those two women. “C’mon,” he murmured, guiding Sombra towards the restrooms. “I’ll let ya have a bit of privacy, but I’ll have to check and make sure you left everything where your boss over there put it.” 

Angela’s thumb moved ever so slightly and Sombra stiffened even further, a faint keen emitting from her throat.

Damn woman wasn’t near as angelic as she looked, and Jesse wagered that Sombra was just fine with that.

He wondered, with a gut-deep pang, if Hanzo had noticed that he wasn’t there tonight. If he even cared at all.

It was enough to keep him from teasing Sombra about her lovers for the rest of the night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know this isn't very heavy on the Jesse/Hanzo side of things, and for that I apologize. In return, take my love for Sombra/Pharah/Mercy as an awesome poly D/s relationship. 
> 
> Next chapter we'll get back to the good stuff. Never fret my darlings <3


	6. Kogeki

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hanzo does not take being stood up terribly well. At all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I haven't been able to respond to everyone who left me such lovely notes last chapter, so I'm gonna do it here in a vague sort of manner: 
> 
> I am doing better! I'm recovered from surgery and everything went well. Work is calming down as new people are hired, and I really do love my job, so I'm not too worked up about extra days there. I've taken a break from RP so I can work on this and some original stuff that is long overdue. 
> 
> This chapter is dedicated to akaiiko, who listens to me rant ALL THE TIME and generally puts up with my bullshit.

Jesse’s reaction to being gagged hadn’t necessarily been one that surprised Hanzo, given that the man was a self-proclaimed submissive, but there was no denying that it had been….more than satisfactory. 

The slump of relaxation and surrender, the lean into his leg for emotional and physical support, even the heavy-lidded gaze he’d won when he divested McCree of the bit-gag, all of it was utterly beautiful, and something he wanted to see again. 

There was no questioning the honesty he’d seen in Jesse McCree in those moments. 

It was that same sort of honesty that had drawn Hanzo to the complex and exciting world of BDSM in the first place. He found it was very easy to tell who was putting on an act, and who was genuinely responding. The body couldn’t lie - not to men like Hanzo - and he found that eliciting that honesty to be utterly _intoxicating_.

Against his wishes, Genji’s words from their dinner a month ago lurked in his mind all evening. Perhaps Jesse merely needed a firmer hand than he’d been given in the past? Perhaps a challenge would be good for Hanzo, would help him out of his current slump of dissatisfaction with all his play partners. That dissatisfaction in and of itself was a problem, he knew, but there didn’t seem to be much of a cure. Until...perhaps...now. 

Between managing the family business and keeping his private life _private_ from his too-nosy-for-his-own-good brother, Hanzo came to the decision that...perhaps he owed Jesse McCree a chance. He had, after all, been quite persistent, and that sort of dedication was admirable, and perhaps even a precursor of the right kind of fortitude to serve Hanzo for more than just a brief fling. 

It was with this thought in mind that he arrived at the club Saturday night, with the intent of offering Jesse a trial period of sorts. He always dressed nicely, but this evening he came in a soft blue silken shirt with golden brocade dragons woven into the fabric, and a dark blue length of silk coiled neatly in his pocket. 

Taking his usual seat, he noted that Jesse hadn’t beaten him there that night, and let his lips twist wryly. If the boy thought he could get away with slacking, he was sorely mistaken. He kept an eye on the employee entrance, thinking that perhaps the cowboy was trying a similar trick to the one he’d played several weeks ago, but as it neared an hour into his waiting, Hanzo felt his chest sinking slightly. 

He wasn’t coming.

Had he misunderstood Jesse’s intent? No, of course not, he’d made himself perfectly clear from the very beginning. He waved off the offers of a drink from the usual staff member, brow furrowed and lips set in a firm line. Was it something he’d done? Was the bit-gag all it took to send the man packing? No, he’d not misread Jesse’s reaction to the gag, no matter what else he thought. It just...didn’t make _sense_. Was he injured? Sick?

Or maybe…

Maybe this was one of Jesse’s _games_ that he played with Doms. The thought made Hanzo’s expression morph into a brooding scowl as he pushed to his feet after the second hour had passed with no sign of Jesse. Well, the man had shown his true colors after all, it seemed. 

He couldn’t help but be disappointed. And furious. Jesse had shown so much potential, and Hanzo...Hanzo had almost _believed_ his little act! 

Striding out of the club, Hanzo didn’t look back. 

***

Though he’d never admit it to anyone - not even himself - Hanzo wasn’t taking Jesse’s apparent abandonment of their...whatever they’d had (or not had) terribly well. He begged off his weekly invitation to cook dinner for Genji, and he spent his evenings in, reading and putting a heavy dent in his in-home selection of wine. At least at work no one commented on him being surlier than normal. Then again, his family business wasn’t one that required any form of cheer from it’s employees, much less the owner. 

It wasn’t merely Jesse’s disappearance that bothered him. It was what that implied about him and his capabilities as a Dom. Had he not given enough challenge? Given too much? Did he cross some invisible line that he’d not even known had been drawn? It was the _not knowing_ that ate at him, gnawing at his confidence when his mind was elsewhere and chipping away slowly at the walls of self esteem he’d built up around him over the years of training to take over the Shimada-gumi in his father’s wake. 

His facade remained as immovable and sharp as ever, but turmoil twisted in his gut whenever his thoughts turned to that damned cowboy. 

***

“You were not at the club last weekend,” Genji observed over dinner the following week, tilting his head at Hanzo over his plate of shrimp scampi. Hanzo grunted an acknowledgement of the statement, offering up nothing to excuse himself. 

“Are you and Zenyatta still planning on that trip to Russia?” he asked instead, clumsily changing the subject. Genji’s lips pursed, fork poking at his plate. “We’re still debating between Russia and Iceland. Zen favors the notion of taking the Trans Siberian Railroad up to Lake Baikal from Moscow, and I want to go to Reykjavik and visit the Viking museums. You know, McCree was waiting for you this week. He looked very lonely.” 

Hanzo’s hand froze midway between his plate and his mouth, a curl of shrimp falling off his fork as he snapped a sharp glare at his brother. “What he does is none of my concern,” he said a bit too acidly. Genji’s brow arched elegantly, gaze turned canny. “Oh? And here I thought the cowboy was winning you over with his stubborn nature and rugged handsomeness.” 

Porcelain rattled as Hanzo slammed his fork down on the table. “He is nothing to me!” A lie. “We are nothing.” The truth. It stung, more than he’d like to admit. That he’d even dare let himself _hope_...

Genji was unfazed by his brother’s outburst, continuing to suck up a linguini noodle into his mouth with an obnoxious slurp. “What kind of vermouth did you use in the scampi?” he asked mildly, as though he’d not just incited a temper-tantrum in his older brother. Hanzo huffed a short burst of air out through his nose before picking up his fork once more, putting back on his facade of cool and collected, even though they both knew that it was a farce. 

“Atsby’s.” 

“Ah...good choice.” 

They did not talk about Jesse again that evening. 

***

“Shimada-san? You have a visitor…” 

Hanzo gazed down at his desk phone for a long moment before setting down his pen and pushing the button to respond to his secretary. The Shimada-gumi may have, in effect, been a Yakuza organization, but they operated mostly legally, and their headquarters in the States was as posh and clean as any Wall Street mogul could wish for. 

“I do not have anyone scheduled today. Send them away,” he grumbled. That should have been the end of it, but a few moments later, Yuki’s voice chirped over the speaker once more. “Ah, forgive me sir, but she says her name is Miss Ziegler and that you’ve given her a standing invitation.” 

Now that wasn’t entirely true, based on what they’d discussed before, but this was the first time in over a year Angela had bothered to come see him at work. “Send her in,” he acquiesced after a moment of thought. 

He didn’t have long to wait before Angela was striding in through the door as it was opened for her, beautiful and severe in her pale blue pantsuit. Wisps of blonde hair framed her face in a golden aura, aiding the illusion of innocence that she wore as gently as a cloak.

She was anything but.

Rising to his feet, Hanzo took Angela’s outstretched hand over his desk, shaking it firmly. She wasn’t one for a weak handshake or a courtly kiss on the knuckles, and Hanzo respected that - and her - greatly. “Miss Ziegler. It is a pleasure to see you again. May I offer you a drink?” 

Angela sat down, shaking her head. “No, thank you. How is business, Shimada-san?” Hanzo blinked mildly, sinking back down into his own seat as well. “Quite good,” he said amicably before adding with a grin, “though I am sure you understand that I can’t go into more detail than that. It is to my understanding that your partner was promoted recently, is that correct?” 

Angela’s face lit up in a proud smile. “Yes, Fareeha has been working so hard lately, her promotion was one I considered long overdue.” 

The prim indignance in her voice at the notion that it had taken so long for Fareeha’s promotion made Hanzo chuckle lightly. “Always the first to see someone’s potential,” he commented. “Give her my regards and congratulations. If you do not mind, I would like to send her a gift. What would be appropriate?” Hanzo grabbed a notepad and his pen, the tip hovering over the paper as he looked expectantly at Angela. 

The owner of his favorite club grinned suddenly, a subtle viciousness making the expression foreboding. “Actually,” she said lightly, features morphing into something patently innocent, “Fareeha has expressed an interest in seeing you do a shibari demonstration at the club. It has been years since you’ve done one, and we’ve been dying to see you at work again.” 

In a sudden moment of clarity, Hanzo realized that he was being played. He didn’t know whose game it was or what part he was playing, but he was definitely being played right now. Dark eyes lifted to meet Angela’s bright gaze, one predator recognizing another. “I see,” he set the pen down, pushing away from his desk as he moved to a sideboard containing a crystal decanter and matching glasses, pouring himself a finger of whiskey. 

He took a considering sip, savoring the burn as it washed over his palate. There was no question that he could do it - he was well trained and quite skilled by anyone’s measure - but whether or not he felt emotionally ready to do so? Even with a one-time submissive, there was a certain level of connection and honesty expected between them. At least, he tried to ensure that there was. Not every Dominant felt the same as he on that regard, but the connection was just as important as the act, in his opinion.

Angela waited patiently, perhaps sensing his internal struggle, but allowing him to work through his thoughts on his own. 

On the other hand...maybe it would be good for him. Refreshing, in that between him and his submissive for the scene, there would be no hidden agenda or games. Something - he thought a touch bitterly - that he hadn’t experienced in a while. Not that McCree had ever _been_ his submissive, but he’d been near enough given Hanzo’s disinterest in other partners.

It still stung, much more than it had any right to.

“Very well,” he said finally. “When would be convenient for you?” 

Angela relaxed, beaming at him. “Oh, this weekend would be perfect actually. Fareeha will be leaving after that for another few months, and I’d like to have it before she’s flying off again. I already have a submissive lined up for Saturday night if that fits your schedule as well?” 

Hanzo nodded, and Angela smiled.

***

When he had agreed to this demonstration, Hanzo had not even _entertained_ the notion that his partner could be...well…

_Jesse._

Angela had been altogether too casual, directing him to a staff room and encouraging him to “get acquainted” with his subject before the show started. He expected a man, given his preferences, and the broad shoulders and narrow hips that he first laid eyes on were more than appealing, sparking off thoughts of artistic knots and rope over skin. When the man turned though, his dark eyes and bearded visage shocked Hanzo into a moment of dumbfounded silence. After the initial surprise on seeing Jesse standing there however, shock quickly morphed into shapeless fury.

How _dare_ he? Showing up here and now, and not when Hanzo had been about to...about to...it was all _GAMES_ to this fickle brat, and he knew perfectly well what he was doing to Hanzo!

Rage roiled within Hanzo’s breast as he glared at the cowboy with a ferocity that had the younger man glancing quickly around for an exit other than the one Hanzo was currently blocking. This had to have been yet another ploy to curry his favor and toy with him before discarding him like a used cumrag. He’d barely credited the cowboy with the intelligence to orchestrate such an elaborate scheme, but there was no other reason that Angela would provide him with the one submissive who’d had the _gall_ to toy with him!

He just never thought she’d be in on it.

“No,” Hanzo grunted curtly, refuting everything that this ill-conceived disaster was turning out to be, before turning to head back out the door. 

“Wait, Han-Sir!” 

For some reason that he refused to reflect on, the twinge of desperation in Jesse’s voice brought him to a halt, and he deigned to glare archly at the young man from over his shoulder. The cowboy’s hand was outstretched towards him, just shy of grabbing his wrist, and hovering there like he knew that he was in enough trouble without adding ‘touching without permission’ to his list of sins. 

“Did you arrange this?” Hanzo hissed coldly, accusation thick in his tone. Jesse - wide eyed and looking far too vulnerable for his own good - shook his head. “No...sir. I didn’t!” 

He was keenly aware of the way Jesse’s upper body leaned towards him, even as his feet remained planted on the floor, a physical manifestation of yearning that was all too easy to read. Hanzo turned slowly, gaze narrowed and arms crossing over his chest as he waited for an explanation. Jesse’s face turned crimson under the scrutiny, ducking his head as one hand rose to scratch at the back of his scalp awkwardly, shoulders hunching. 

 

“Look, I dunno what Ang’ told ya, but it seems to me that she didn’t tell ya who you were workin’ with, and if yer uncomfortable usin’ me fer this demonstration, I’ll go and find you somebody else.” Hanzo was just about to ask him to do just that when Jesse continued babbling, still not daring to look Hanzo in the eye. 

“Look, sir, I didn’t arrange this, and I didn’t ask for it, and she just told me to be here cuz you were gonna do one of yer rope shows and I dunno about you but when that lady tells you ta do somethin’ there ain’t no refusing her, and plus it were gonna be with you, which I wouldn’ta said no to anyways, cuz I’ve wanted to be yer boy for ages now, and I ain’t never been good enough for the likes of you. I ain’t stupid enough to pass up what might be my only chance to even pretend that ya give more of a shit about me than most Doms, but if ya really don’t want me here, just say the word and I’ll go, and I won’t fight you cuz I don’t _wanna_ fight you, I just wanna be good for you, and I keep trying to be good for you, but I don’t know how!”

Hanzo stood stock-still, absorbing everything that had been said - or rather vomited forth without restraint or thought - silence lingering between them, thick and viscous before he pinned Jesse with a hard gaze. 

The cowboy wilted. 

Hanzo’s jaw tipped upwards slightly. 

“McCree…”


	7. Flying

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wherein Jesse flies.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Obligatory note that while I never have personally participated in shibari, I did do my homework before writing this. If you note any glaring errors or issues, feel free to let me know, but remember that it's fantasy for a reason ;) 
> 
> Always kink safely my friends.

Jesse died a thousand deaths as Hanzo’s dark eyes bored into him. Anxiety roiled in his gut and stole the air from his lungs as he hunched his shoulders and ducked his head, waiting on a slew of curses that never came. 

“McCree…”

When the axe didn’t fall, he dared to glance up at Hanzo, wary but nursing the merest tendril of hope that had sprouted somewhere within his ribcage. The Japanese man bore the faintest lines of exhaustion around his eyes, telling of a lack of proper sleep, and stress-furrows dug into his forehead. Jesse wanted to kiss those lines away, dig fingers into Hanzo’s hair and drag nails along his scalp until the man fell asleep in his lap. It was a shockingly domestic desire, but there was no denying the urge was there nonetheless. 

Even still, in spite of the fury he’d seen, Hanzo was the most beautiful man he’d ever laid eyes on. Tailored black slacks clung to muscular hips and thighs in all the right ways, and the white button up shirt he wore only emphasized the broadness of his chest. Sleeves were rolled up neatly to just beneath the elbow, showing off the bright colors of the tattoo that graced Hanzo’s left arm.

“I missed you!” Jesse blurted out, gaze averting from the inky depths of Hanzo’s eyes. “Last week, I mean. Waited until closing time, and they had to all but throw my ass out.” It was true, he’d kneeled at Hanzo’s regular chair for hours, legs aching and toes going numb as hope trickled away with each passing hour. 

“And the week before?” 

The sharp cut of Hanzo’s voice sliced into Jesse like a hot knife through butter. 

_Angela hadn’t told him…_ The realization made his gut churn unpleasantly, understanding finally nudging into existence the reason for Hanzo’s hostility when he’d first seen him. The sick feeling in the pit of his stomach lurched once more. “I’d have much rather been here with you, but I made a promise to a friend, and I had to be with her that night instead.” The confession was soft, simple. It wasn’t an excuse, and he didn’t play it up as one neither. 

Jesse glanced up as Hanzo moved into his space, a different sort of trepidation shivering through his guts at the way the other man looked at him. Jesse swallowed and lowered his gaze to Hanzo’s throat. Hanzo’s hand lifted, a calloused palm cupping Jesse’s stubbled cheek. He leaned into it on instinct, eyes falling shut. If he could stay right here, everything would be just fine…

All too soon, Hanzo’s hand fell away from his cheek and the Japanese man was turning to rifle through a bag that had been waiting on him, pulling out several neatly coiled lengths of black nylon rope. “Stretch out your muscles while I explain what will happen tonight,” Hanzo ordered, the timbre of his voice sending a shiver up Jesse’s spine. “Yessir!” He didn’t even have to think about the response before it was spilling out of eager lips. 

Not sure exactly what muscle groups to focus on, Jesse reached down to touch his toes, grunting a little as his fingertips brushed the floor just in front of his boots. 

“We will be doing some transitional suspension shibari tonight. At the beginning, you will stand with arms behind your back, hands clasped to elbows and feet spread just outside of shoulder width apart. I will begin with a hip-harness, then a chest-harness, and then we will tie your arms.” 

It was such a clinical explanation that it shouldn’t have been sexy at all, and yet...It was all Jesse could do to not let out a soft moan as Hanzo’s voice slithered into his consciousness, the words setting alight both nerves and excitement. He straightened upright and steadied himself against the table with one hand as he pulled his heel up to his buttocks, stretching out his quads on one side and then the other. 

“Finally, I will do your legs. After that I will hook you up to the suspension rack and lift you up,” 

Maybe he was imagining it, but there was the slightest uptick of Hanzo’s lips at that bit, and Jesse’s mouth went dry at the nearly-imagined expression. Once he felt his legs were as limber as they would get without a proper warm up, he moved up to his arms, pulling one across his chest and then draping it behind his neck to ease his shoulders and triceps. 

“You will spend several minutes aloft while I strike you on the back and ass with an implement of my choosing. After that, I will adjust your ropes and change your position.” 

At that, Jesse did whine, the soft sound keening from his throat, and this time he was certain of the faint smile on Hanzo’s lips. 

“After the second position I will strike you again, and then I will lower your legs and release you. Throughout all of this, you will communicate with me how you are feeling. I need to know if any of your limbs are knotting up or going numb. You will tell me immediately if you feel as though you are about to suffer injury.” 

Jesse nodded, belatedly choking out a rough “yes, sir,” in addition to his nonverbal assent. 

Hanzo eyed him appraisingly, and Jesse found himself straightening his spine under the scrutiny, not wanting to be found lacking before they’d even begun. Hanzo seemed to hesitate a scarce moment before speaking once more. “Would you...object to being brought to orgasm in front of an audience?” 

Jesse’s chest deflated in a whoosh of air that was part exhale, and part disbelieving laugh. “Oh darlin’, I mean, Sir, no, I don’t object in the least.” His cock was already half-chubbed out, pushing at the front of his suddenly too-tight jeans. Hanzo hummed a soft noise before he turned back to the bag of ropes and placed a set of shears with dulled points atop the pile he was laying out. “You will drink a bottle of water and go relieve yourself before we begin. You will wait for me in this room, stripped and standing ready for inspection in five minutes. Understood?” 

Jesse practically babbled his assent before running to do as he was told. 

***  
He’d been privy to enough shows on this stage that Jesse didn’t much think of how it’d feel to be _on it_. The lights seemed far brighter than was strictly necessary, and even though he’d seen the sturdy A-frame suspension rack hold men much heavier than him before, it didn’t look quite as sturdy as he’d have liked. 

It wasn’t much helped by the typical pre-Scene jitters that screamed up and down his chest cavity, squeezing his stomach and dancing a jig against his lungs. His half-hard cock had long since deflated, and he hoped a little hysterically that nobody was out there laughing at him. Hell, he was just mighty glad that he couldn’t see the audience from where he was standing. 

And then....and then Hanzo was in front of him, strong hands and long fingers dragging his attention away from the lights and the audience as cool rope slid over a hairy thigh, quickly warming to body temperature as it was wound around his upper thigh several times. Jesse only had eyes for Hanzo, the Japanese man’s face a study in concentration, even as his hands moved with a nimble surety only attained through years of practice and experience. 

The rope was softer than he’d thought it would be, and it pulled snug against him as Hanzo tied beautiful knots that seemed both utilitarian and decorative at the same time. His cock started to fill slowly as rope was wrapped around his waist, the long ends of the pieces Hanzo was working with flicking against his legs lightly. Breath hitched as the rope was guided down between his legs and hooked under the muscular swell of his asscheek, Hanzo knotting it again to the hip piece, back underneath once more, around the hips and between the legs again on the other side. 

He stopped trying to keep track of how Hanzo was tying him, and just watched with a mezmerised sort of admiration as he was turned into a living work of art. Hanzo tugged on the hip harness here and there, ensuring that the tension was correct and all the rope sat as it should. It was weird, feeling so snug and tied up around his hips and ass while his junk was still swinging in the breeze. Akin yet different to the sort of vulnerability offered by assless chaps. 

The man wasn’t done there though, and Jesse outright _yelped_ when he felt a hand palm his ass-cheeks open and a twist of rope invaded his crack, Hanzo’s knuckles brushing his balls as he tied it off, the loose ends neatly coiled and secured against his thigh. It happened a second time, the same thing happening on the other side, and the cowboy had the distinct sensation that his asshole was gonna be on display at some point, and he was mighty glad he’d been keeping the hair down there under control in case Hanzo wanted to play with him. 

The chest harness came next, rope wrapping underneath his pecs and over his shoulders and then again across the upper swell of his chest. Each graze of Hanzo’s hands along his skin left a faint tingle, making Jesse want more than the little soft brushes of contact. He wanted Hanzo to dig nails into his chest and bring up bright red welts that would linger for days. He wanted rough pinches to his nipples and a bruising grip on his hips. He wanted to be _marked_ and _owned_ long after the scene was over. 

If this was what he got though...well hell, he’d take it, and gladly. 

Hanzo hooked a finger underneath one of the ropes, adjusting it and testing the tightness. “It is not meant to be too tight, or it could restrict your respiration and circulation” he murmured quietly where only Jesse could hear. “Are your shoulders comfortable?” Jesse nodded. Christ the man was beautiful! He looked young, but the silver at his temples glinted under the stage lights hinting at a bit more age and experience than most here. He was torn between looking at his dream Dom or gazing down at the twists and loops of rope that turned him into something _more_.

Interlocking loops made a diamond pattern between his pecs, Jesse’s chest jerking into the bonds as Hanzo subtly grazed a nipple with his thumbnail. Jesse whined low in his throat wiggling slightly and breathing a sigh of pleasure as the rope restricted his motion but never seemed to bite too deeply. 

He turned only a little stiffly at Hanzo’s prompting, the rope between his ass rubbing intimately at his hole with each movement. When Hanzo began to wrap the rope around his forearms to keep them together, any lingering tension in Jesse’s body fled entirely. _This_ he was familiar with. He’d done bondage similar to this, though his last Dom had preferred easy to buckle leather straps over actually learning how to tie a proper knot. 

His ease didn’t go unnoticed, and Hanzo patted him approvingly on the hip. It was a simple motion, but Jesse practically beamed his delight at making Hanzo pleased with him. The rope around his forearms was twisted and tied into a ladder-like web, Hanzo securing it to the back parts of his chest harness. Now the order of things made sense, all the pieces of a puzzle clicking into place. 

Time had become meaningless, Jesse measuring it in knots and loops, so it was almost a surprise when Hanzo finally grabbed the dangling ring overhead and fed a long piece of rope through it, down to Jesse’s harness, back through the ring and back down again. He pulled and tied once more, and it was then that Jesse realized that he had yet to go _up_. 

While he went through the mental gymnastics of wondering how Hanzo was going to suspend him, the man knelt and looped more rope around Jesse’s calves in a decorative criss-cross pattern before finishing it off at the ankle, and mirroring the work on the other side. 

The rope from his ankle was brought upwards behind him, and Jesse’s ankle and leg went with it, control of his body completely given over to Hanzo’s machinations. Hanzo lifted the one leg slowly, watching for the moment where Jesse’s muscles tensed at the limit of his flexibility and he eased back slightly before securing it. Toes digging into the stage floor, Jesse wiggled on one foot, half convinced that he were going to fall over, even with all the bondage keeping him in place. 

A flare of panic twisted in his gut as Hanzo lifted the other foot, using his hip to brace against Jesse’s thigh as he hoisted him up, and tied him off, the cowboy letting out soft giggles of euphoria as his weight fully eased into his bonds. 

Eyelids fluttered closed as he hung there, rope biting deliciously into his flesh. He’d forgotten about Hanzo’s promise to strike him once he was aloft, and so the sharp bite of a crop against his ass drew a startled yelp and jerk out of him, a titter of laughter drifting into his consciousness from the audience he’d long since forgotten about. He didn’t have time to gather his scattered brain cells before another swat hit him in the same place, and then he was spinning. 

Light strikes from the crop lit up along his hips and thighs as Hanzo struck him while he spun, the sensation like sharp little nips that raised faint pink spots on his skin. Hanzo stopped him from spinning after a few turns, showing him off to the audience before laying into his thighs with the crop once more, each one jerking a raw cry from Jesse’s lips, and a futile twist against his bondage. 

Something was welling up within him, expanding in his chest cavity. It was a sensation both strange yet familiar at the same time. 

“Status,” Hanzo prompted in his ear, breath catching in his lungs with how close he suddenly was. “Green,” Jesse moaned, eyelids fluttering as he turned his head towards his master. “God almighty darlin’ fucking green across the board.” Hanzo smirked against his cheek, one hand stroking into the thick trail of hair that led down from his chest to his belly, fingers catching the hairs and tugging lightly, the sensation enough to urge a wanton groan from Jesse. “I am going to change your position again,” Hanzo warned before more rope was brought into play. 

That feeling in his chest roared back to life as both legs were released from behind him and instead pulled forwards, the loop under the bends of his knees taking the weight as he was resituated into almost a sitting position. Jesse’s head fell backwards, panting softly as his legs were spread wide, showing off his ass and the insides of his thighs to those assembled. 

The crop hit his ass again, harder this time as the sting drove a hot welt into his flesh. Jesse barked out a cry, twisting helplessly as his body tried to escape the punishment on pure instinct. Another strike, this time to the tender inside of his thigh. Jesse tried to close his legs and found he couldn’t, the rope firmly holding him exactly where Hanzo wanted him. 

_Vulnerable. Exposed. Accessible._

Jesse keened as the crop bit him again, lacing hot pain along his inner thigh, and his hips tried to rut forward, but he only managed to sway awkwardly until Hanzo steadied him once more. He wasn’t sure quite when he’d gotten completely hard, but his cock was fat and full, drooling pre into the thick hair along his belly and groin. He panted, chest heaving with each breath as his mind was driven from his body.

The shaft of the riding crop danced along his dangling balls, urging a guttural noise of want from Jesse’s chest, and then a yelp as it gently tapped his tender sack. When he could look at Hanzo, the wicked gleam in his Dom’s eye sent another gush of precum drooling out of the tip of Jesse’s cock. “Sweet fancy-” 

_Smack!_ The crop swatted against his inner thigh again, earning Hanzo a yelp and a babbled “Fuck! Darlin!” 

_Smack!_ A stripe of fire laced closer to his groin, making his cock jump against his belly and his nerves light up in sweet agony. “Shit! Sir!” 

_Smack!_ His other thigh earned a new stripe of red, skin welting quickly from the precise strikes. 

Jesse was an utter and complete mess. 

A garbled shout bellowed out of him as the tag on the end of the riding crop was dragged roughly down his cock, body writhing and tears gathering in the corners of his eyes. His toes curled as the crop teased between his cheeks, prodding the rope against his hole more firmly. 

“Please please please!” 

He didn’t know when he’d resorted to babbled begging, but every part of him sang for Hanzo and Hanzo alone. “Five more strikes,” Hanzo murmured in his ear. Jesse nodded and even though he hadn’t been asked, he replied with a groaning “green, green, green,” earning himself a low rumbling chuckle from his tormentor. 

Euphoria buzzed through his system, the hum overriding the five sharp cracks across his ass, the pain melting into the hundred other sensations that vied for supremacy. A soft whine emanated from his throat, and he was vaguely aware of Hanzo’s hands running over his body soothingly, of his legs slowly, gently being lowered to the ground. He sagged into the ropes that still held him upright by the chest harness, legs wobbly and weak. His cock jutted out obscenely from his pelvis, drooling slick in a long line down to the floor. 

Hanzo pushed close to his side, one arm wrapped behind his back and the other hand encircling his cock with more tenderness than Jesse thought the situation warranted. “Cum for me,” Hanzo murmured in his ear, but his hand didn’t move over his cock. The cowboy whined and rutted forward into the gentle grip, groaning at the sweet friction. Another hum of satisfaction emanated from Hanzo, the sound spurring Jesse on. 

It was awkward, trying to gather his scattered mind and find the leverage to thrust into Hanzo’s hand, but maybe that was the point. Driven by need and a mindless desire to do as he was told, Jesse fucked into the tunnel of Hanzo’s grip, his copious amounts of pre slicking the way and making the slide oh-so-sweet. 

Gasp, rock, groan, thrust. He was so focused on his task that his orgasm took Jesse utterly by surprise, breath catching in his throat as abs tensed and his cock pulsed, spurting out long ropes of cum onto the floor beneath him. Hanzo took pity on him and milked him gently through the last of his orgasm, not minding the sticky mess in the least.

“You did so good,” Hanzo was crooning in his ear as he wiped his hand off on a kerchief plucked from his pocket. “Such a good boy for me, Jesse.” Jesse heard the words, but he was floating so far out into space that they could have been a song on the radio. Satisfaction and contentment suffused him entirely, and he barely noticed as he was held steady while Hanzo untied the ropes and eased him down to the stage floor. 

A blanket was wrapped over him, and he curled into Hanzo’s chest, clinging to the man like a lifeline. There was no one but them. Nothing but them. 

“Such a good boy.” 

Jesse smiled.


	8. Bound

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hanzo reflects on his evening with Jesse and comes to a decision.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Special shoutout to the amazing Mianewarcher who drew some SERIOUSLY AMAZEBALLS ART for this story, forreal go look at it, and then throw a dollar a month at her patreon because that's cheap af for this gloriousness. https://thisisformynaughtyshit.tumblr.com/post/161092923677/shibari-mchanzo-from-kestrelsama-fic-untouchable

Hanzo had rarely ever felt such utter and complete satisfaction after a scene. It was true that Dominants didn’t enter the same sort of space as submissives did, thanks to the endorphin rush brought on by pain and stimulation. But if there was such a thing as Dom-space, he felt fairly certain that this was it. 

Jesse was still curled up against his chest, nude and half-asleep, fingertips still clutched into the front of Hanzo’s shirt like he were the only solid thing for miles around. It was heady stuff, being the center of someone’s universe, and the intimate knowledge that _he_ had been the one to elicit such a stunning response from the rough-and-tumble man in his lap was...indescribable. He felt as though he imagined a Deity might feel, yet also acknowledged the intense gratitude that swam deep through him at being permitted such reign over Jesse’s body, and to be so trusted to bring him back from the brink. 

Fingers carded through tangled chestnut hair idly, Jesse’s shudders and trembling having subsided long since, but neither man made the move to disentangle themselves from one another. Around them, the lights of the stage had long since dimmed at the conclusion of their scene, an assistant bringing over a blanket and several bottles of water as Hanzo guided Jesse down into his lap. 

In the afterglow of the moment, it was inevitable that he should feel so… _attached_ to Jesse McCree, as though they’d briefly transcended their singular bodies and become one shining whole in that final moment. The rational part of his brain reminded him that post-scene hormones ran high on both sides of the aisle, and that it wasn’t uncommon to feel emotions that many would mistake for love. After all, he’d been nearly insensate with fury with the damned cowboy not even three hours ago! 

This was not love. 

The acknowledgement did nothing to dim the bloom of possibility that maybe...someday...it could be.

Hanzo allowed himself a brush of lips to the top of Jesse’s head. “Jesse...I need you to drink some water for me,” He murmured, freeing one hand so that he could grope for one of the bottles nearby, bringing it to his lips so he could unscrew the cap with his teeth. He waited until Jesse had roused enough to tip his head upwards in compliance, and trickled the cold water between his lips. Out of the corner of his eye, he was fairly certain he saw Angela’s brat of a girl grinning smugly at them. 

He felt too exposed for what was meant to be a private moment between him and his boy.

_When had he started thinking of him as such?_

“Come,” he said quietly, setting aside the bottle and jostling McCree a bit. “I need to check you over before you pass out again.” The cowboy groaned a complaint, but slowly sat forward, the heels of his palms going up to grind into his eyesockets blearily. “A’ight, ’m up.” It was clearly untrue.

Hanzo felt his lips twitch in amusement once Jesse had eeled off his lap, clutching the blanket around his shoulders in a rather endearing sort of manner. Hanzo rose first, helping Jesse to his feet and keeping him steady when he wobbled as cramped muscles protested the motion. Hanzo himself felt the gradual drain of energy from the scene as it wore off, a sated sort of satisfaction settling deep into his bones. He would sleep well tonight...better than he had in recent memory, in fact. 

“Sir?” 

Hanzo hummed a questioning sound as he guided Jesse back to the room where they’d encountered one another barely two hours ago. The pulse of music from the rest of the club muted as the door clicked shut behind them.

“I wanted ta be here fer ya. The other night.” 

Did McCree realize that his accent grew thicker when he was exhausted? Perhaps not. Hanzo found it simultaneously grating and charming in equal measure. Much like the voice’s owner. 

“Bu’ I made a promise, an I keep my promises. I ain’t as bad as all them other doms say...they jus’ ain’t given me a reason t’ be good.” 

He let Jesse talk as he eased him down onto the plush couch in the prep room, quickly taking the space beside him and drawing the man back into his arms, settling back onto an overstuffed pillow. 

“Do you need a reason to be good?” He asked quietly, not quite sure where this was going. Jesse sat silent for long enough that Hanzo had begun to suspect that he’d fallen asleep on him, until the boy spoke up once more. 

“...I need a man worth bein’ good fer. Most of em wanted me ta bend cuz they said they was Dom. Difference between sayin’ it and _bein’_ it tho.” 

Hanzo agreed with a hum, nodding slightly. There was a misconception among the younger crowd that every submissive should bow to any dom that looked their way. It had not been thusly when he was younger, and he half attributed the notion to the recent popularization of the idea of dynamics. 

“It should be about respect first, and roles second,” he commented lightly, thumb tracing along the indent left behind by rope on Jesse’s tanned skin, ensuring that the bite hadn’t gone too deep, and visually assessing the welts on his thighs to ensure that none were bleeding. “It is not unnatural to seek out someone worthy of your respect.” 

Jesse nodded against his chest, the scruff on his jawline scratching against Hanzo’s chest with the motion. Hanzo nudged Jesse’s thighs apart so he could look over the welts there, the cowboy’s legs falling open easily at the touch. So open. So trusting. It pulled at Hanzo in ways he’d not felt in a long time.

Left unsaid was the acknowledgement that Jesse’d sought out Hanzo when he found the others lacking. 

Left unsaid was the revelation that Hanzo held far more respect for Jesse than he’d previously suspected possible. 

They stayed tangled in each other’s arms long past closing time.

***

Before they had parted ways that night, Hanzo and Jesse had exchanged cellphone numbers - a bit of forethought that was promising to enrich Hanzo’s otherwise dull Wednesday afternoon. 

_What are you doing right now?_

Hanzo sets his phone aside once the text is sent, turning his attention back to the assembly of sharp-suited businessmen and women seated at the long table. Hanzo sits at the head, as is his right and his duty. The remaining seven seats are filled by his _saikō-komon_ , and the seat directly opposite Hanzo, meant for his _wakagashira_ remains empty since Genji’s defection from the clan. 

Hanzo leaves the position empty as more of a statement to his administration than anything else. Let the elders say what they would behind his back.

“The Russians have approached us again with an offer of assistance through the Southern checkpoints…”

A light on Hanzo’s phone flashes blue, indicating a new text. He swipes a finger across the screen and keys in his passcode. The text is from Jesse, and the response makes him want to smile. 

_Just finishing up work, sir. Gotta grab a shower, but if there’s somethin” you want me to do...?_

“...Shimada-Oyabun already told them we would not work with them while they continued to deal in children…” 

He finds himself envying Genji, and the fact that his brother is, for the most part, free of this life. Keeping his brother safe from the clan had been...a messy ordeal...but he’d do whatever it took, as many times as necessary to ensure Genji’s safety and well-being. Part of that though...was running the clan himself. It was a price he’d pay until he found a suitable successor. 

His second-cousin Shimada Fumiko, for example, was a potential candidate for the position. She was currently _saikō-komon_ of district 2, and sat at Hanzo’s right side. 

“Perhaps a reminder is in order? They show their disrespect in continuing to come to us, despite not heeding our requirements…” 

Fumiko’s words are the same Hanzo would have uttered himself, and he lets his silence speak of his assent to this plan while his fingers tap out a reply to Jesse. 

_If you do not have other obligations, I will meet you for lunch in an hour. Do not shower or change. I will send a driver to pick you up._

Not even ten seconds later, a response pops up, and Hanzo can almost taste Jesse’s wariness. 

_All due respect, sir, I’m covered in sweat and dirt and mud. Most respectable establishments wouldn’t let me through the doors like this._

The faintest twitch of lips is the closest Hanzo comes to snorting out a laugh before he forces his visage back into an expression of solemnity and punches out a monosyllabic response that he knows will get under Jesse’s skin.

_And?_

The next response takes a few more minutes, and Hanzo wagers that Jesse is struggling with himself over the order. 

_Nothing. See you then, sir._

***

Once his duties as Oyabun have been concluded for another day, Hanzo has his driver take him to the outdoor cafe that he’s scheduled another driver to bring Jesse to. The cowboy is already waiting for him, and he looks more like a cowboy than usual. Hanzo takes a moment to observe Jesse before he’s seen, taking in the well-worn cowboy boots outfitted with spurs, the leather chaps covered in dust and sprinkled with mud, the flannel shirt with obvious sweat-stains at the underarms and the red neckerchief that looks like it might be a darker shade of red under the layer of tan dust. There’s a cowboy hat sitting on the table to Jesse’s right, similarly battered and dust-covered. 

Jesse’s face is relatively clean, all things considered. A smear of dirt at his forehead indicates that he’s wiped off his face at the least, and his hands look freshly washed, which Hanzo can’t really argue with, though he’ll ask the cowboy about it just to see him squirm. 

“I did not realize you were an actual cowman,” Hanzo murmurs as he approaches the table, lips quirked ever so faintly as Jesse looks up at him before scrambling to his feet. The following moments are awkward as they try to read each other’s body language and settle on a handshake that turns into a half-hug before both men find their respective seats. Jesse’s flustered, a look that Hanzo decides is rather attractive on him, and his lopsided grin is equally attractive. 

Dammit.

“Now I know yer just teasin’ me, but I’m a God’s-honest cowboy, darlin’. I got a horse and everything,” Jesse says with a grin that could nearly be qualified as “shit-eating”. Hanzo hums and picks up his menu, glancing over it briefly before setting it down. “I am paying for lunch,” He declares before Jesse can object. He relishes the flush of red in the cowboy’s cheeks, and the way his mouth opens and closes a few times as he works towards a response. 

“That’s mighty kind of ya, sir,” he manages finally, the followup question he tacks on fully expected by Hanzo. “I’m uh...I’m real glad you invited me out, but uh...does this have ta do with the other night?” 

The server approaches and Hanzo makes Jesse wait for his answer while they order their lunches. 

“It does,” Hanzo admits finally once the server leaves, letting Jesse stew a moment as he sips at his water and tucks a stray strand of hair behind one ear. “I would like to offer you a trial period as my submissive.” He reaches into one pocket, pulling out the length of dark blue silk that’s been burning a hole in his brain for weeks now. Setting the coiled silk on the table, he gives Jesse a minute to absorb the suddenness of his request. 

Hanzo fancies he can see the breaking down of walls built up over an age of self-preservation behind Jesse’s eyes. 

Pity his own gut wouldn’t settle, the pit of his stomach roiling at the possibility that Jesse could still refuse him, could still laugh and confess that this had all been a game to him. The anxiety eats at him until Jesse’s hand moves over the top of the table, fingers lingering over the coil of silk cord before he reverently picks it up. 

“You’ll...consider me?” he asks roughly, and the anxiety in his voice is a match for the same stuff dancing along Hanzo’s lungs. Hanzo swallows and nods. “You...are different than I initially thought. Stubborn. Dedicated. Obedient.” He struggled to find the words, a challenge he was unaccustomed to. “The scene we shared this past weekend. It was…” _euphoric, perfect, transcendent_ , “...it exceeded my expectations. I should like to continue.” 

Something softens in Hanzo’s chest when Jesse draws the blue coil of silk to his chest like it’s something rare and precious. “I…I’d like that too, sir.” 

All the tension in Hanzo’s chest flees in an instant, an unrestrained smile breaking across his lips. He catches Jesse’s free hand to squeeze it subtly before releasing him reluctantly. 

“In that case, we should discuss limits and expectations.” 

It would be hard for Hanzo to say that he’d ever had a more enjoyable lunch date than the one he shared that afternoon with Jesse McCree.


	9. Learning the ropes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jesse and Hanzo meet up for their first public play date together. Things don't go exactly as planned.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sooooo this took me a really long time? I wound up deleting it halfway through and rewriting it because I wasn't happy with it. I'm much happier with this one.

Two days. 

Two days since their lunch date and half of one more until their next meeting at Mercy, and Jesse couldn’t decide if it was too long, or not nearly enough time to gather his thoughts and his courage. Hanzo had been so...so… _thorough_ when they’d spoken about what he wanted and didn’t want in regards to a scene, and even though McCree had been through his fair share of kink negotiations, it had been a damn long time since anyone had paid such sincere attention to the things he was interested in but hadn’t tried, and to the things he honestly didn’t enjoy. 

It was nice to feel heard for once. 

He’d been more than a mite surprised when Hanzo started taking notes and asking for clarification on this or that, but it was a nice sorta feeling, knowing that he was being taken seriously. Not to say that all his past Doms had been terrible, but they’d treated negotiations much more casually and with some amount of flippancy that always left McCree a bit anxious.

Hanzo had his own requests, of course, had provided Jesse with a list of things he would not do under any circumstances, and made his code of conduct very clear. Jesse was not to masturbate without Hanzo’s explicit permission, he was to stay well-groomed at all times, with consideration taken to allow for often-dirty nature of his work. He wasn’t allowed to consume alcohol prior to a scene, and he was required to get a minimum of eight hours of sleep. 

Jesse wasn’t new to such rules, but the ‘no masturbation’ one was easily his least favorite, especially since thoughts of dark eyes, strong hands, and the rough caress of rope against his skin was enough to get him to pop a boner multiple times a day anymore. 

The blue silk cord constantly found its way between his fingertips in the interim, safe and snug in his front pocket where he could dip a few fingers in now and then just to feel the slick fibers against the pads of his fingertips. It served as a reminder when Sombra invited him out to go partying on Friday night, and firmed his resolve when she started wheedling.

“I got orders, Som,” Jesse admitted finally, reluctant to spill even that much, but knowing that A) she’d keep hounding him about being a stick in the mud and B) she’d find out sooner or later anyways. “Hanzo’s givin’ me a chance, and I ain’t gonna blow it, so I’m gonna go to bed, get my eight hours of sleep and not have to fight a hangover while shavin’ my taint!” 

He had to wonder if it was worth the cost when she left off badgering him to go out with her and instead took up her newest favorite hobby: tormenting Jesse.

Hell, he supposed they were friends for a reason, anyhow.

***

There was comfort in routine, so Jesse made his way to Mercy with only a little bit of trepidation and a lot of anticipation. Heading to the bar, he requested Hanzo’s usual bottle of sake and took it up to his regular chair, setting it on the side-table and dropping to his knees to wait. He didn’t remember feeling this nervous the last few times he’d been in this spot, but things had changed, and now it wasn’t just him waiting and hoping, and half-resigned to being ignored, it was _more_...

The elevator doors slid open and Jesse’s spine straightened until he glanced over and saw that it wasn’t Hanzo, a faint slump curving his shoulders as a result. He dug into his pocket and pulled out the blue coil of silk, fitfully running it between his fingers. 

Aside from Sombra’s reconnaissance and his own observations of the man, Jesse didn’t entirely know what to expect from Hanzo at this point. He’d never been up here when Hanzo was engaged with someone else, and his shibari demonstrations were too complex for every weekend playtime. He knew that Hanzo would tell him what was going to happen when he got here, just like he’d done before he tied Jesse up all nice and treated him so good, but the waiting might actually kill him, he was pretty sure. 

Couldn’t help the fidgeting that started either, one foot jiggling underneath his rump as his eyes wandered across the room. Fingers twitched and rolled the silk between them, and Jesse found himself wanting a cigar something fierce. If he couldn’t have booze, the nicotine would at least calm him down a touch. Pity he didn’t know how Shimada felt about cigar smoke. Some people thought it smelled nice, others found it repugnant. He’d have to severely curtail his smoking if Hanzo was the latter, and the thought probably should have bugged him more than it did. 

Well, to be honest with himself, he were just trading one vice for another. 

“You do not actually know how to sit still, do you?” 

Jesse’s heart damn near jumped out of his chest when Hanzo’s rich voice came from behind him, and he actually jumped a little, planting both hands on the ground so he could swing around and stare disbelievingly at the sneaky bastard. “Christ almighty darlin, you could give a man a heart attack sneakin’ up on him like that!” 

 

Hanzo’s gaze flicked down to Jesse’s hands where the blue silk pressed between his palm and the floor. Jesse looked up at Hanzo, and then back down down to where his gaze had fallen, eyes flaring wide when he realized far too late what he’d done. “Ah! Shit! I’m sorry sir!” He snatched the cord up to his chest, babbling a little as he started to panic over such a big fuck-up right from the start. “I was waitin’ fer ya, and I was holding it cuz I figured you’d wanna put it on me, and then you startled me - not that it’s yer fault o’course! - and then…I accidentally...” 

Hanzo’s hand reached out, palm upward, waiting impassively. Jesse hunched in on himself a bit more, squeezing his eyes shut as disappointment wracked his whole frame. He’d gone and done it now, and now Hanzo wanted his collar back and if only he weren’t such a goddamned idiot!

Shaking slightly, and with great reluctance, Jesse reached out slowly and put the coil of silk into Hanzo’s waiting palm, rising to his knees, one foot moving forward so he could stand up and beat a hasty exit. 

“I did not tell you to rise,” Hanzo said softly, his free hand catching the side of Jesse’s jaw in a gentle cuff that turned to a caress of a thumb along the arch of his cheekbone. Breath caught in Jesse’s throat as he looked up in surprise, a tendril of hope strangling his lungs. 

 

“Yer not...sending me away?” Jesse asked tentatively, hating the way his voice had gone all small and vulnerable. He waited on his knees as Hanzo sank down into his seat, legs spread and fingers pulling along his jaw, urging Jesse to shuffle in between his thighs. 

“Of course not,” Hanzo said with a quiet scoff as he folded the silk into two even pieces and wrapped it behind Jesse’s neck, bringing the ends forward. Jesse tipped his chin up obligingly as Hanzo worked the cord into loops and knots, heart hammering in his chest. The anxiety curling his his belly slowly eased with each tug and slide of silk against his throat. Hanzo wasn’t sending him away. He hadn’t blown it just yet. 

“Thank you, sir.” 

Hanzo hummed, finishing off the last knot and neatly tucking in the ends, rubbing a thumb over his work appraisingly. The light pressure made Jesse swallow thickly, his throat bobbing and the back of his neck prickling. “When we meet here, you will wait just as you were this evening for me to come and tie your collar on you. At the end of the night, I will untie it and you will keep it with you. I expect you to treat it with the same respect you show me.” The warning was mildly spoken, but the intent sent a shudder down Jesse’s spine. 

 

“Yessir, I won’t mishandle it again sir.” He was so damn tempted to nuzzle into the crook of Hanzo’s thigh and just sit and breathe him in, but he kinda figured that a classy guy like him wouldn’t stand for a stray dog like Jesse nuzzling his groin like that in public. 

“You will not. And to ensure that the lesson sticks, you will be punished for putting it on the ground, is that understood?” Hanzo could have been reading the damn phone book and Jesse could’ve gotten off on the sound of his voice. Even when it was something as unpleasant as a punishment, it still had the power to sway him. “Yessir,” Jesse said faintly.

Unfortunately for McCree however, he knew exactly what kind of punishment was coming. They’d talked about things that Jesse didn’t care for (but weren’t on his strict “no” list), and one thing that caught Hanzo’s attention more than the rest was the cane. Jesse had seen the way his eyes widened slightly when it was brought up, had cottoned on to the faint curve of his lips that meant he was planning something. 

“Go fetch my bag from the attendant and bring it here, boy. We’ll get your punishment done first.” 

Jesse murmured an assent and got up to track down a staff member, practically bumping into one with a stammered apology. “Ah, sorry, I’m uh...I need Mister Shimada’s bag, please.” He bristled under the look the attendant gave him, one full of scepticism and distaste. “I didn’t see you enter with Mister Shimada,” the attendant said snidely. Jesse’s blood boiled, frustration ripping through his gut. 

“Y’sure didn’t cuz I was here waitin’ on him like a good boy, instead of backtalkin’ people like you seem to be, you snotty little cuss! Now get me his bag afore you have to deal with _him_ ‘stead of me!” He held the attendant’s gaze with a scowl until they nodded curtly and made their way to the VIP coat check. 

Glancing around as he waited, he realized he had a small audience, cheeks flushing under the scrutiny and ears burning. Hell, he’d probably earned himself another punishment by being smartmouthed, but the notion of simply _not telling_ Hanzo what had happened wasn’t even an option. If he didn’t tell him, one of the others _would_ , and he’d be in even more trouble. Damned if he did, damned if he didn’t. 

He was calmer when the attendant returned and icily handed over Hanzo’s bag, the Shimada clan symbol stitched into the leather in silver thread. “Thank ya kindly,” McCree mumbled, ducking his head as some of the nearby Doms watched him go with raised eyebrows and disapproval on their faces. 

When he made his way back to Hanzo’s side, Jesse set the bag down at his Sir’s feet, head ducked low as he sunk to his knees. He watched from under his lashes as Hanzo’s hands moved into his line of sight, unzipping the bag and rifling through before retrieving a rattan cane. Jesse’s stomach coiled unpleasantly as he slid the bag aside out of Hanzo’s way. 

“Sir?” 

He dared glance up, and caught the way Hanzo flexed the cane between his strong hands, throat going tight as he swallowed. 

“Yes, Jesse?” 

He looked back down, pinning his gaze on the shiny toes of Hanzo’s wingtip shoes as he spoke. “I got a confession t’make.” Out with it then, he goaded himself. “I got a bit sharp with the attendant when I was fetchin’ your bag. They acted like I was trash, like I couldn’t possibly be here with you, and I lashed out. Don’t take kindly to bein’ treated like such, and I know it ain’t an excuse, but I figured you’d wanna know that I...didn’t act appropriately. ‘m sorry.” 

He wasn’t rightly expecting the hand that reached out and caught his chin, tilting his head up to look at Hanzo. His gaze met the dark pools of Hanzo’s eyes and he couldn’t even fidget as he tried to read the emotion writ there. Hanzo’s lips thinned, before a soft sigh escaped between them. 

“Thank you for telling me. We will deal with that shortly. For now, you will strip and brace yourself there against the railing.” 

Well it was a damn sight better than being given up on, that was for sure. Jesse figured he was a lost cause after two major fuckups on their first real night of play, but Hanzo just kept giving him chances, and honestly that in and of itself was a bit baffling. 

Murmuring his acquiescence, McCree got to his feet and stripped down, folding his clothes neatly as he set them aside, cuz he figured that was the sort of thing Hanzo would like for him to do anyways. There wasn’t any shyness in the baring of his body, as this wasn’t close to the first time he’d stripped down in this very club, but somehow he managed to feel about ten times more vulnerable than usual. Maybe it was the way Hanzo sat back in his chair and watched with a lazy sort of attention, like a lion sizing up his prey. 

Turning his back, Jesse gripped the brass railing tightly, eyes falling shut as he braced himself for the bite of the cane. A warm hand planted gently on his back instead, startling a jerk out of him as it smoothed down his spine. “Easy. This will be done soon,” 

Jesse nodded, shoulders untensing minutely at Hanzo’s murmured reassurances. He kinda figured the guy would bitch him out a bit more for his transgressions, but apparently Hanzo wasn’t the kind to get off on belittling his submissive. 

The first crack of the cane on the swell of his ass startled a yelp out of Jesse, pain sharp and bright like lightning radiating across his buttocks. The cane was sawed into the welt a few times before it left his skin and snapped down again, urging a raw, shuddering gasp from Jesse’s throat. Hanzo’s aim was impeccable, each strike hitting exactly the same spot. His grip on the railing tensed, knuckles gone white as he tried to breathe through the pain. By the ninth strike, tears were trailing down his cheeks, and he was hiccuping for air. 

Thighs trembled from how tense he’d become, forcing himself to stay in place. By the twelfth strike, he could only choke down garbled curses. Why had he agreed to twenty? If he’d known how expertly Hanzo wielded the cane, he might have tried to talk him down to ten or so, but in the giddiness of negotiations he’d not even considered…

Fourteen and fifteen came so quickly together that they might have been one, and it was only the sound of cracking in his ears that he realized it was two distinct strikes. He jumped with a quiet cry when Hanzo’s hand rested lightly on the back of his neck, startling in its gentleness. “Just a few more. I know you can handle them, boy.” Jesse snuffled and nodded, taking the brief respite to try and steady out his breath. His ass felt like it was on fire, and he knew sitting was going to be intolerable for _days_. 

When the ninteenth fell, Hanzo had to steady him with an arm under him as Jesse tried to squirm away, his body disobeying his brain in its desperation to escape the pain. Finally, finally, the twentieth strike bit harshly into aching skin, and McCree’s shout was some combination of pained and relieved. 

Then Hanzo’s arms were around him, guiding him back to the chair, strong hands holding him steady, pulling Jesse into his lap facing him, so that he wasn’t immediately forced to sit on his abused ass. Jesse clutched at the front of Hanzo’s suit, body shaking as he fought through shuddering gasps that he muffled in Hanzo’s neck. Sweat prickled along his skin, but Hanzo didn’t seem to mind, stroking his back gently while he fought through the aftershocks of pain and overstimulation. 

“Easy. You did well. You took your punishment so well for me, boy.” 

Hanzo’s voice was honeyed smoke in his ears, soothing him back down to a place where he remembered himself, even as the pain kept radiating along his cheeks. “Th-thank you sir. I won’t mishandle my collar again.” He managed after several minutes. Fingertips trailed along the silk of said collar, petting the skin above and below it tenderly. Under the soft touches, Jesse eased finally, tensed muscles going slack. 

“I was not planning that our first scene together should be a punishment,” Hanzo mused. Jesse snorted a little, punch-drunk and stifling a laugh into Hanzo’s neck. “M’neither, t’ be honest. Guess we shoulda figured that I can’t keep on the straight and narrow.” Hanzo pinched his ass near his weals, startling a squeak and jump out of Jesse. “Enough of that. Now, this evening I had planned a lighter scene to get us more acquainted. I am going to put a small prostate vibrator inside you, and you are going to sit very still for me while I amuse myself. Is that clear?”

Jesse's cock started to chub in response, the ache in his ass subsiding to a dull roar. “God yes sir, that sounds mighty fine,” Jesse groaned, rocking slightly into Hanzo as the notion made his gut curl with anticipation. Hanzo hummed, fingers digging into McCree’s scalp, mussing his hair as he stroked him. 

“There's my good boy.”

Jesse could have purred beneath the praise.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Uh...sorry for that ending. I won't make you wait too long for the next chapter and the good stuff.


	10. Desperate

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The second half of Hanzo and Jesse's first Scene together. Smut and feels abound.

Hanzo would be an utter and complete filthy liar if he said he didn’t take a visceral, possessive satisfaction in the bruising, bright red lines that bisected Jesse’s asscheeks. His boy was waiting patiently for him, forehead resting on his arms, ass lifted high in the air, and the line of his back a muscular slope that begged to be bitten and marked in various creative ways. 

Jesse was an interesting man, a masochist and submissive, but only for certain types of pain, and only for certain types of people. He knew precisely what he wanted, and Hanzo found that to be a rather refreshing and endearing trait. 

He was careful not to overly aggravate that pretty red line however, as he held the meat of one buttock, spreading Jesse so that he could get to his hole. Circling the rim with a lube-coated fingertip, Hanzo pressed the digit in, stroking along Jesse’s inner walls. A shuddering breath fell from the cowboy’s lips, muffled in his arms, but definitely not unnoticed by Hanzo. Jesse was tight, but not so tight that he’d require much prep for the small toy that Hanzo would be inserting in him shortly. He withdrew his finger and immediately replaced it with two, watching them sink into Jesse’s body. He didn’t toy with him too much, spreading his fingers and teasing against his prostate in light grazes of touch that wouldn’t be _nearly_ enough before pulling them out and replacing them with the slicked metal of the prostate massager. 

It was C-shaped, more or less, with an egg-shaped bulb at one end, and a loop and strap on the other end. Hanzo maneuvered the toy inside his boy until he felt Jesse jerk forward with a gasp. Placing a warm palm between his thighs, Hanzo cupped Jesse’s testicles, rolling them gently before slipping the loop around them, and wrapping the strap around the base of his cock, securing it. With some reluctance, Hanzo sat back, wiping off his hand with a cloth and admiring his work. Jesse’s prick was already hard, hanging fat and heavy between his thighs, the black band of the strap accentuating the flush of his skin. 

“This is a good look for you,” Hanzo purred, lifting one foot and very gently nudging the toe of his shoe against the back of the toy, eliciting a quiet curse from the man beneath him, muscles tensing slightly and cock bobbing in very evident appreciation. “Oh?” Hanzo murmured, pushing his toe more firmly against the toy, earning another groan and curse. “You like it when I step on you, boy?” Jesse nodded very slightly, the back of his neck flushing a bright red as evident embarrassment or something similar overtook him. 

“Such a disgusting dog,” he purred, Hanzo’s voice nothing but fond and appreciative.

“You’re not any mere dog though, are you Jesse? You don’t want to be under just anyone’s heel.” He moved his feet, setting them both atop Jesse’s lower back carefully, crossing his feet at the ankles as he used the boy like a footstool. Jesse didn’t move, but the taut muscles in his shoulders went lax as he all but melted into his place. Hanzo flicked his thumb over the remote on the end table next to him, starting the vibrator on its lowest setting. Jesse barked out a noise as his whole body lurched forward an inch. 

Hanzo hummed appreciatively as the muscles in Jesse’s ass clenched in response to the buzzing of the vibrator, which pulled at his new bruises, which drew another long, low groan from the cowboy. “No, a mere domesticated dog is easy to train, and idiotically loyal to anyone who pats him on the head and feeds him. You’re stubborn and crude and you’ll fight anyone who doesn’t treat you right.” Reaching over to the end table, Hanzo poured himself a cup of sake, bringing the cup to his lips as he sipped at the liquor. 

“You’re a coyote, aren’t you Jesse?” 

Jesse nodded again, the red blush having crept down over his shoulders. Giving into the urge to see his boy’s blushing face, Hanzo dropped his feet back down to the ground, reaching forward to place a steadying hand on Jesse’s hip. “Sit up for me, pet.” Slowly, Jesse pushed himself upright, taking his time so as not to give himself a head-rush, brown hair tousled and whiskey-golden flecked eyes soft and hazy as he turned to kneel between Hanzo’s spread legs. This was the Jesse who’d spent an hour gagged and kneeling. This was the Jesse who had looked so damned beautiful wrapped up in black rope and arching into his hand for an orgasm. 

This was the Jesse that Hanzo found himself ridiculously enamored of, in spite of his best intentions.

Everyone Scened for a reason, and this hazy peace was clearly what Jesse was in it for. It was beautiful in a remarkably understated way. 

“Good boy,” he crooned, digging fingers into Jesse’s tumble of chestnut locks, gently scratching along his scalp. “Do you remember what I said I was going to do?” Jesse leaned imperceptibly into the touch, nodding faintly. “Yessir. Said you was gonna entertain yerself.” Hanzo’s thumb grazed the bristles of Jesse’s jawline. “That’s right. Before I do however, you remember your safewords?” 

Jesse nodded again, visibly dragging himself to a more lucid state in order to answer. “Green’s good, Yellow’s check in, Red’s...ah...full stop.” Jesse was squirming a bit, and Hanzo looked down to see him shifting his thighs together, stimulating his bound testicles between his legs. “Tsk, spread your legs, boy,” he chided gently. Jesse whined, visibly conflicted between pleasure and orders, but he obeyed, spreading his knees wide so that his cock and balls were exposed to his Sir’s sight and woefully deprived of touch.

“Mmm, there you go,” Hanzo purred appreciatively. “You look so handsome like this.” He really did; hirsute, tanned, and muscular, and all of it was for Hanzo to play with. A shudder of appreciation rippled through Hanzo’s guts as he gazed possessively down at his boy. 

Letting his hand fall from Jesse’s hair, Hanzo leaned back more comfortably in his seat, picking up his cup of sake as one foot moved to tease gently at Jesse’s cock, the sole of his shoe pressing the fat member up against the cowboy’s belly. The action was rewarded with a groan of lust from his boy, and a tensing of thigh muscles as he rutted up subtly against the unyielding pressure.   
Hanzo allowed the slight movement for the time being while he enjoyed the sweet tang of sake on the back of his palate. Once the small cup was empty he set it aside and took the opportunity to nudge the dial on the vibrator up a tick. Jesse cried out, hands leaving his side as he grasped at Hanzo’s calf and ankle with both hands, subtle rutting thrown out the window in favor of very obvious grinding. “Sir, sir, fuck…” Jesse panted, pleading and lust in his pretty golden-brown eyes. 

Clicking his tongue, Hanzo withdrew his foot, easing it out of Jesse’s desperate grasp and setting it down on the floor as he leaned over for his bag of toys. “I did not give you permission to touch me, coyote, so I must leash you,” Jesse whined, but it wasn’t entirely a noise of protest - there was definitely a healthy amount of desire coloring his tone. 

Fishing out two smaller coils of rope and a small velvet bag, Hanzo set the bag aside for the time being, and dropped to one knee at Jesse’s side, taking his wrist and tying it neatly to his ankle. He did the same on the opposite side, and went back to his chair to admire his work. The new position caused Jesse’s chest to push out slightly. Perfect. Dark nipples were stiffened into tiny buds, which made Hanzo’s next amusement all the easier. He upended the velvet bag into his palm, a set of nipple clamps connected by a chain dropping out. The teeth of the clamps were covered in a light layer of rubber, but they’d still have plenty of bite for Jesse’s tastes. 

Hanzo took more pleasure than he perhaps should have in holding up the clamps for Jesse to see, eyes narrowing in satisfaction at the way he tugged at his ropes fruitlessly and cursed quietly under his breath, hazel eyes glimmering with avarice.

“Christ almighty, darlin, sir, yer tryin’ ta kill me, ain’t ya?” 

Hanzo’s chuckle was dark and rumbling, a tilt of satisfaction curving his lips. “Don’t be ridiculous. If I wanted you dead, there are much more efficient ways of achieving that.” He eyed the way Jesse’s cock twitched at that statement, a bead of pre glistening at the tip, and filed it away for future ruminations. For now, he was content to flick the nipple on the right that was straining out, moving up and down with each heaved breath, and then snapped the clamp down on the bud. 

Jesse’s head flew back, eyes squeezed shut as he jerked forward and then back, cock bobbing as hips tried to rut upwards and met nothing but air. “Fuck, fuck, fuck,” the vulgar mantra fell prettily from bitten-red lips, while Hanzo waited out the writhing of his boy. Once Jesse had mostly settled, he clipped the other nipple and tugged gently on the chain. 

Hanzo watched Jesse with pure fascination and pleasure as muscles went taut, his cock drooled, and balls visibly tensed up. A stuttered curse broke past the cowboy’s lips when the orgasm was strangled back by the strap around his member, hips jerking and body squirming. 

“Gorgeous,” Hanzo murmured in appreciation, Jesse groaning as shoulders went slack and he gave in to the restriction once more. Hanzo turned down the vibrator for a few moments, letting Jesse catch his breath. 

He was not a merciful man though, so the second Jesse’s struggles eased, Hanzo reached out and snagged the chain of the clamps, tugging lightly, and then pulling back sharply, yanking them off Jesse’s nipples and leaving the buds red and puffy.

“SON OF A BITCH!”

Hanzo laughed, setting aside the clamps and chain. “Such foul language!” His tone wasn’t entirely disapproving - he couldn’t make it that way if he tried, not with Jesse swearing and squirming and turning twenty shades of pink just for him. It was heady stuff. 

Jesse’s body went taut, muscles tense and shuddering beneath his skin as he strained towards Hanzo. “Please, fuck, sir, I’ll do anything!” Desperation was a good look on the cowboy, Hanzo decided. 

“You will,” he agreed mildly, ignoring the evident plea in Jesse's words. It earned him a whine and a groan as Jesse squirmed, leaning in towards him. “I could...I could treat ya real nice if you’d let me, boss,” Jesse’s gaze was fixed on the bulge in Hanzo’s trousers, hungry and more than obvious in what he was suggesting. Hanzo’s cock gave a throb at the thought of that mouth wrapped around him, though he was careful to stifle his outward appreciation of the idea. “Perhaps another time,” he deflected, stifling a chuckle at the look of disappointment on Jesse’s face. 

“Right now, I find playing with your responsive body pleasurable enough.” As if to add emphasis to the statement, Hanzo flicked the vibrator back up, the low buzz nearly audible as it assaulted Jesse’s prostate. “Oh God! Oh God!” Jesse cried out, straining against the ropes that bound his hands to his ankles, thighs tensing and back arching. “Please sir! Lemme cum! Lemme - _fuck_ \- I just...I _need-_!”

That was what Hanzo had been waiting for, that utter and complete loss of control, of restraint, leaving Jesse a babbling, desperate mess, and Hanzo his only source of satisfaction. The feeling of power settled deep into his gut, a pleasurable pull that he never quite felt running his business or when using money to get what he wanted. It was a weight in his groin and a tightness in his chest as Jesse writhed helplessly, tears collecting in the corners of his eyes as he gazed up at Hanzo in supplication. 

He could go to any Dom for this, but it was Hanzo’s feet he kneeled at and it was Hanzo’s mercy he begged for. 

Sliding one leg forward, Hanzo offered the limb to his desperate boy. “Bring yourself to the brink once more, coyote, and I will grant you your release.” It was all the urging Jesse needed, the cowboy nearly falling over in his haste to knee-walk the short distance, strong thighs straddling Hanzo’s foot, forehead resting on his thigh as Jesse rutted against his leg like a dog in rut, his drooling cock leaving long strings of pre along the fabric of his slacks, to which Hanzo paid no mind. 

He rested his hand atop Jesse’s head, stroking fingers through the thick locks and steadying him with a hand on the back of his neck as Jesse’s motions grew frantic, his breathing labored and wet. His whole frame tensed against Hanzo’s leg as orgasm rushed near and was held back once more, a bitten off curse and groan of overstimulation the prettiest of tunes that accompanied the shuddering of Jesse’s muscular frame. 

Jesse let out a sound that was dreadfully close to a sob, and when he looked up at Hanzo pleadingly, his eyes glimmered with wetness. It was such a beautifully desperate expression, Hanzo moved without thinking, leaning over Jesse as he reached for the ropes binding his wrists to his ankles, swiftly tugging the knots loose and letting the rope fall to the ground. Jesse reached up, shaking arms wrapped around Hanzo’s neck, clinging desperately. 

Gently, Hanzo urged Jesse up, pulling the boy sideways into his lap. It was a touch ridiculous from an outsider’s perspective, with tall, hairy, strong Jesse McCree cuddled up against the shorter Japanese man, naked and shuddering, but between the two of them it was perfection. The chair was more than sturdy enough for their combined weight, and Hanzo’s nimble fingers undid the loop and strap around Jesse’s cock and balls, his thigh pushing up against the toy and keeping it in place. 

Jesse’s cock had gone soft in the interim, but it was quickly plumping back up, the uninterrupted assault on his sweet spot drawing overstimulated sounds from his throat. Hanzo gently palmed the heavy weight of Jesse’s balls, cupping the thick sack and massaging it gently. “You did so well for me boy,” he crooned. Jesse clutched at him, breath catching, nose tucked up against Hanzo’s neck. 

Clever fingers wrapped around Jesse’s thick shaft, Hanzo marveling at the warmth and weight of it. It was so beautifully thick, he could think of a thousand pleasurable torments he wanted to inflict on such a pretty cock. For now though, he pumped slowly, using the copious drench of pre to slick his way, palm cupping around the tip and fingers sliding back down to the base. Jesse groaned and shuddered in his grasp, hips rocking weakly at each downward stroke. Hanzo kept the pace deliberately slow, building Jesse back up to the point of no return. 

The speed at which he jerked off his cowboy was deceptively slow, torturous but inexorable. Jesse seemed to cum without realizing how close he was, a hoarse, startled shout ringing in Hanzo’s ear as his boy’s cock pulsed and spurted thick ropes of white onto his own belly, cum soaking into his body hair with each forceful spurt. Hanzo milked him through the last of it, stopping just shy of overstimulation and reaching with a sticky hand to flip off the vibrator entirely. 

Hanzo was still achingly hard in his trousers, but as he held his quivering, spent cowboy, he felt a rush of satisfaction and pleasure that he only really felt after a very good Scene. And this...this had been an _excellent_ Scene. 

He held Jesse until his shivering subsided, stroking his clean hand through his boy’s hair and clutching him close with the other. They sat together for an indeterminate amount of time - long enough for Hanzo’s erection to subside and his legs to begin to go numb under Jesse’s weight - before the man in his lap finally stirred, drawing back enough to look at him with exhaustion and bone-deep satisfaction in his eyes. 

“Are you well?” Hanzo asked finally, biting back the twinge of something more than fondness that gnawed at his insides. A grin spread across Jesse’s face, radiant in its warmth. “Aw yeah, darlin, I’m better’n well. Could stay here all night, ‘cept I still have that evil thing in my ass, and yer legs are probably goin’ numb.” Hanzo coughed a sound that was nearly a laugh. “Ah, perhaps,” he confessed. 

Slowly, Jesse slid his feet to the ground and reached between his legs with a wince, easing the vibrator out and giving it a proper once over before handing it to Hanzo. “Nasty little toy there. Think I like it,” he drawled, earning an actual laugh from Hanzo. “I think so as well.”

Jesse wobbled very slightly as he rose to his feet, Hanzo reaching to steady him with a hand on his hip. “Do you-?” “Would ya mind if-?” They both stopped, trying not to talk over each other and winding up with an awkward moment of silence. “Speak,” Hanzo murmured finally, lips quirking in amusement. Jesse managed to look bashful, as though he’d not just cum spectacularly all over himself while in Hanzo’s lap. “I uh...I was just gonna say I need a shower but...I tend to drop hard and I thought maybe we could...have a bit more time afterwards? Just you an’ me?” His cheeks turned a charming shade of red as his gaze slid away. 

“Don’t have to, o’course, just thought it might be…” Hanzo rose to his feet, one arm securely tucking around Jesse’s waist, interrupting the out Jesse was trying to give him. “I would like that. You go shower. I will secure us a private room and have our things delivered there.” He knew he’d made the right choice, especially with the way Jesse smiled at him, grateful and relieved. “Yeah..sure...ok, I’ll just...go clean up first…” 

Hanzo let him go, watching him make his way through the club with nary a stitch of clothing on but his rope collar, and smiled. The look disappeared once Jesse was out of sight, and Hanzo took a brief moment to re-pack his toys and supplies, promising himself that he would clean them properly once he was home. He gathered up Jesse’s tidy pile of clothes and hoisted his bag, making his way to the attendant working the check room. He had some unfinished business to attend before he could indulge in some tender aftercare with his boy.   
He knew he’d come upon the correct attendant when the person looked at him and paled, ducking their head low in a faint bow. 

“I understand you were disrespectful to something of mine.” The look of fear in the attendant’s eyes was worth it. 

***

Later, Hanzo lay in bed, arms wrapped around a clean, sweet-smelling cowboy, propped up by pillows as he scrolled through his tablet while Jesse dozed against his chest. He could tell when Jesse began to rouse, his breathing changing slightly. 

“Hey Han?” 

“Hmm?” 

“How come ya wouldn’t let me get you off?” 

Hanzo blinked, setting aside the tablet and tilting Jesse’s head up so he could look at his boy. “It was our first proper scene. It was not about my pleasure. You are not obligated to reciprocate unless we negotiate that in advance.” He said it with gentle clarity, wanting Jesse to understand that he was not one of those Doms more interested in their own pleasure than that of their submissive’s. 

Jesse chewed on that thought for a few moments before speaking up once more. 

“Can I blow you now though? Been thinkin’ about gettin’ yer dick in my mouth for weeks now.”

Hanzo felt a tinge of warmth creep over his cheeks. “Next time,” he promised Jesse, loathe to ruin the sweetness of the moment. Jesse fell silent for another few minutes, hand tracing designs along Hanzo’s chest. 

“Can I at least kiss ya?” 

A surprised smile tugged at Hanzo’s lips as he gazed down at the hopeful look on Jesse’s face. “Of course.” 

Leaning down, he slotted his lips against Jesse’s, and felt like he’d come home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Because I didn't write it in, let's assume they went over health testing during their negotiations. Always practice safe sex kids, even if fanfic writers don't always include it. Kink safely my friends. 
> 
> Also, a huge shoutout to Mianewarcher who has been making some fucking delicious art for this series. Check out the scene she painted of Hanzo offering McCree his consideration collar: https://www.tumblr.com/dashboard/blog/miasmchanzocomics/161261684535
> 
> If you like her shit, go throw a dollar a month (or more) at her Patreon. She does some great shit, and artists pay a lot of money for supplies and schooling. 
> 
> Finally, I've finished my outline for this part of the series. Once this part is done, I'm taking a break to write a Genyatta fic that won't leave me alone, and then I'll be back with these two as they explore their relationship together. Expect 3-4 more chapters of U|U. I'm not done with these two by far and I have a LOT of ideas that I want to play with, so stay tuned. :)


	11. Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hanzo has troubles at work. Things come to light, and an argument becomes a confession.

“Next time” wound up arriving sooner than Jesse had expected or anticipated. He’d spent the whole week after their scene together nursing a bruised ass while floating on cloud nine. Riding Peacekeeper was a special sort of agony and even her smoothest gait reminded Jesse in very visceral ways that his collar was never to be set on the floor, and drove the lesson home with each deep throb of lingering pain. 

It was both delicious and maddening. 

Mid-morning on Friday though, his phone started buzzing on his hip with an incoming call. Jesse’s lips turned down in a worried frown as he reined his mare to the left of the herd of cattle, steering the lot more towards the right. All his friends knew not to call while he was working, same for his dads, unless it was an emergency. He took a second to fish a bluetooth earpiece out of his front pocket and slipped it into his ear, tapping at the button to pick up the call. “McCree,” he answered curtly. 

“Where are you?” It took Jesse a second to parse the abrupt question. Hanzo sounded...strained. Not nervous - not quite - but worried enough. Jesse’s stomach twisted uncomfortably. “I’m at the ranch, sir. Workin’. Everything ok?” 

There was a pause, and what might have been a sigh. Jesse clucked at Peacekeeper and urged her into a trot, only a fraction of his mind on his job. “There was an...incident...at my company today. I am fine but it was...stressful. I would like you to come to my home once you are finished with work.” 

Jesse gaped for a moment, mind whirling with what the hell might constitute an “incident” for (what Jesse was pretty sure was) a Yakuza crime boss. They’d never really discussed what Hanzo did for a living, but Sombra had dropped enough blatant hints that Jesse was able to do the math and figure out that his Dom was more than a mere Yakuza grunt. Jesse didn’t know if Hanzo knew that he knew, so he figured it was best to just play ignorant until - if - Hanzo decided to tell him about it. 

“Of course. I’d be glad to come over, darlin. You want me to pack a bag before I head over?” 

“No!” The response came so quickly and firmly that Jesse almost flinched at the tone, Hanzo realising almost immediately how it sounded. “No, that will not be necessary,” he added with a touch more composure. “I have everything you will need to stay the night if you wish.” Jesse’s stomach flipped a few times at the notion that whatever this ‘incident’ had been, it got him a personal invite into Hanzo’s home and his bed. So far as he knew, not many submissives had earned that honor. 

Course, it could have just been for convenience and stress relief, but there was something else going on here. Maybe had something to do with why Hanzo didn’t want him going home to pack an overnight bag. 

He must’ve been musing over it a bit too long, Hanzo’s quiet “Jesse? Will you come?” rousing him out of his thoughts. Maybe he imagined it, but he thought he heard the faintest twinge of vulnerability in his voice too. 

“Course, darlin. Text me your address.” 

***

Jesse had never seen Hanzo look ruffled before, but when Hanzo threw open the door and hauled him inside at the barest hint of Jesse’s knock, he had a fraction of a second to appreciate the sight, before he was being shoved up against the slammed-shut door and demanding lips were pressed against his own. Hanzo’s strong hands gripped tightly into the front of Jesse’s dusty plaid, pinning him in place while his mouth was ravished. 

Jesse’s surprised moan was muffled, eyes fluttering shut and body going lax between the dual firmness of Hanzo and the front door as he kissed back, licking and nipping at Hanzo’s bottom lip and earning a firm bite in retaliation. The sharp pain startled a gasp out of him, a slick tongue invading his mouth, conquering and laying claim to the territory there. 

Heart stuttering, Jesse groaned, stomach coiling with heat and cock quickly plumping up behind the unforgiving zip of his jeans. Hanzo shoved his hips against him, his own fat cock already rock hard beneath the far more forgiving fabric of his dress slacks. One of Hanzo’s hands crept upwards into Jesse’s hair, fisting the thick strands aggressively, and then yanking his head to the side while teeth bit roughly into the side of his throat. A keen burst out of Jesse, knees going weak as the sharp bite was soothed over by a slick tongue. He was undoubtedly all sweaty and dusty from work, but Hanzo didn’t much seem to care, and McCree wasn’t gonna tell him to stop so that he could clean up. No siree. 

“I wanna blow you, baby,” Jesse groaned through a gasp, pleading, hips grinding into Hanzo as need swirled through him. 

“No.” Hanzo growled into his skin, earning a whimper of disappointment from the cowboy. 

That is, until he felt a positively _vicious_ grin curl against his throat, Hanzo dragging lips up to the lobe of his ear, drawing out a shudder of desire as teeth nipped at his earlobe sharply. “But I _will_ fuck your face and feed you my release,” the typically-stoic Japanese man rumbled. 

_Oh God Almighty,_ McCree let out a shameless moan as the words sent lust rocketing through his frame and turned his legs to jelly. He dropped to his knees, fingers fumbling at the catch of Hanzo’s trousers, eagerness making him clumsy. What felt like an eternity later, he managed the damn thing, and Hanzo’s cock jutted forward, thick and ruddy. Mouth watering, Jesse inhaled the masculine scent of him, almost dove forward to take it into his mouth, before remembering his place in all this. 

His hands stroked up Hanzo’s hips, dipping underneath the tails of his shirt, thumbs and fingers digging wantonly into the muscular cut of his lover’s waist. Hanzo hissed, his left side inching away from the touch. Jesse saw the beginnings of a very dark bruise peeking out from beneath the half-rucked shirt, but then his wrists were caught in powerful hands and pinned up against the door over his head. He was utterly, deliciously trapped, and Hanzo was here, and very, very hard. 

Looking up at the other man through his lashes, Jesse licked his lips in anticipation. “Use me, sir,” he breathed. They must have been the right words because Hanzo’s grip around his wrists tightened and his dark eyes flared with lust, and then his cock was pushing in between Jesse’s lips, the salty tang of pre lighting up over his tongue. He’d barely a moment to appreciate the flavor before Hanzo’s cock was withdrawing and pushing in again, insistent. 

Whenever he tried to suck or lave his tongue over Hanzo’s prick, he got a firm jab of cock to the back of his throat in warning, and it didn’t take long for him to realize that Hanzo wanted him here and open to him as a _receptacle_ and nothing more, and _jesus fuck_ he didn’t think it would be so hot to feel so used, but christ, it was!

“Good boy,” Hanzo crooned roughly once Jesse had relaxed into his place, mouth loose and lips only lightly sealed around the shaft of his cock. Jesse’s prick throbbed in his jeans as Hanzo thrust in and out of his mouth, drool sliding out the corners of his lips and trailing down into his beard. His jaw was starting to ache slightly from holding position, but he didn’t move, not an inch, each thrust over his tongue sending him sinking into a hazy place, where he was here for nothing more than Hanzo’s pleasure. Even his own hard-on was a sweet ache that could be abused or neglected at Hanzo’s whims, and Jesse was entirely, completely content with that. 

Eyelids fluttered open when his Sir started fucking into his mouth more firmly, pace increasing and cock swelling slightly as he chased his pleasure. Jesse whimpered, wanting Hanzo to come as much as the man himself must. Hanzo gazed down at him with a possessive gaze, flushed and sweating lightly as he rutted into his boy’s mouth with growing urgency. Jesse panted through his nostrils, need coiling in his gut as he sensed Hanzo nearing his end. He craved it as much, no, _more_ than he craved his own release. 

Jesse’s eyes fell shut once more as he gave himself over, a tear escaping down one side as his breath stuttered. Hanzo drew taut and groaned, giving a few sharp thrusts that gagged Jesse before the bitter salt thickness of cum flooded his mouth. Hanzo continued to thrust as he spilled, seed dripping out the corners of Jesse’s mouth, the heavy musk overtaking his senses. 

Only once Hanzo had finished cumming and had pulled out completely did Jesse swallow the load he’d been given, hazy eyes gazing up at his Master with bleary devotion. His mind drifted and he didn’t move until Hanzo released his arms, and even then it was just to allow his aching shoulders to relax as hands fell to his sides. 

Hanzo gazed down at him, something soft and unreadable glimmering in those beautiful dark eyes of his. “Pull your cock out and stroke yourself to completion,” he commanded gently, firmly. Jesse’s hand moved of it’s own volition, popping the button on his jeans and dragging down the zipper. His prick easily found it’s way out over the waistband of his red boxer briefs. 

It was a good thing his dick was drooling pre like a motherfucker, because he would have jerked himself off dry and given himself some friction burns, but nature was merciful sometimes, and the friction was just right, with just enough slick to keep the glide smooth and sweet. Not that it mattered. All that mattered was obeying Hanzo, and Jesse didn’t tease himself or try to put on a show. He’d been ordered to stroke himself until he came, and that’s exactly what he was going to do. 

Jesse set a brutally efficient pace, gasping for breath and free hand clutching into his thigh as he jerked himself off in front of Hanzo, letting out a sharp cry and rumbling groan as his abs contracted not even a minute later and balls drew tight. With the taste of dick and cum on his tongue, and the sight of Hanzo’s drooling, softening cock right in front of his face, Jesse came violently, spraying the polished wooden floor with thick ropes of spend. He only stopped stroking himself once he’d finished cumming, and then his hand - sticky with cum - found it’s way to his knee where he waited for his next order. 

Hanzo let out a breath that Jesse might have described as ‘shaky’ were he cognizant enough to do so, and he groaned when strong fingers stroked into his hair, rubbing against his scalp. “That was perfect, coyote,” Hanzo crooned, that deep rumble causing a warm curl of pleasure to sprout in between Jesse’s lungs. Leaning into the touch and catching his breath, McCree couldn’t reply beyond a satisfied hum. Fortunately, Hanzo didn’t ask for more than that. 

A few more moments passed and then Hanzo was on his knees in front of Jesse, fingers unbuttoning his flannel and pushing it off his shoulders. “Come,” Hanzo urged gently. “I will help you clean up and then I will feed you.” Jesse moved sluggishly at first, dropping his shirt to the floor by the front door and then rising with Hanzo’s help to his feet, boots kicked off and denims and briefs stripped down his legs and left in a heap with the rest of his dirty clothes. By the time he was fully undressed he’d regained most of his senses, and had the decency to recognize that if anyone else lived here, they’d find a very naked cowboy following around the master of the house. 

It was kinda hot, he decided with a grin. He never fancied himself a kept boy, but as a fantasy it was appealing. 

“If yer gonna help me, you should get undressed too, darlin’.” Jesse purred with a hint of his usual charm. Hanzo shot him a wry look, the subtle twist of his lips indicating amusement. “Soon enough, coyote,” he promised vaguely, gesturing for Jesse to follow him further into the extravagant manor. He felt a mite out of place amongst all this fine artwork and expensive furniture, but didn’t have long enough to dwell on it while also keeping pace with Hanzo and trying to memorize the route, should he have need of it in the future. 

Their path eventually took them to a bathroom that was larger than a good portion of McCree’s apartment, beautiful geometric patterns worked into the tile in crisp blues and grays. While Jesse ogled the dual sink setup and the silver-gilt mirror set above them, Hanzo moved to a walk-in shower, which, when Jesse did a double take, he realized that there were two shower heads pointing towards each other. 

Such extravagance. 

Hanzo turned the knobs on the tap until hot water was streaming from both showerheads and gestured for Jesse to get in. “My wild dog is in desperate need of bathing,” Hanzo remarked dryly when Jesse looked like he was about to refuse dirtying such a fancy shower. _My wild dog._ That brought another grin Jesse’s lips and he nodded, tilting an invisible cowboy hat that was currently sitting on the seat of his pickup. 

Impishness reared its head and as Jesse moved past Hanzo to step into the shower, he smoothly slipped an arm around his waist and tugged the shorter man in with him. Hanzo sputtered and slapped at Jesse’s chest without any real malice or force. “Mangy cur! I’m still dressed!” Hanzo howled. Jesse’s grin went positively shit-eating as he firmly held Hanzo under the spray, gaze darkening as the water made the dress shirt cling to his muscles as it got soaked. 

“Guess ya oughta be expectin’ to get a little wet when givin’ yer dog a bath,” Jesse crooned, swooping in and licking a line along Hanzo’s jaw, nuzzling him affectionately, affecting obliviousness to his struggles. Hanzo’s fingers found Jesse’s side, pinching to get him to squirm away from the ticklish touch. “Rotten hound,” Hanzo muttered as he began to unbutton his shirt, dropping the sodden mess outside of the shower. 

Jesse’s teasing trailed off when the motion revealed two dark, spreading bruises across Hanzo’s torso. One was just over his heart, blooming black and blue into purples and the crimson of broken vessels near the surface. The other was the first one he’d noticed earlier, just to the right of his navel and slightly lower. 

Cold trepidation clutched at his gut while Hanzo, seemingly unaffected, stripped out of his soaking trousers, condemning them to the pile of clothes outside the shower. When he turned back, Jesse was already in his space, hands clutching lightly at his hips and head ducking to brush the gentlest of kisses just over the bruise above his heart. Hanzo froze a moment, and then his hands were in Jesse’s hair, working the water-dark locks to ensure they were thoroughly wetted.   
“Sir,” Jesse breathed, shoulders hunched awkwardly and nose buried in Hanzo’s neck. He knew he was trembling slightly but tried to ignore it in favor of the click of a cap and the scent of something expensive wafted to his nostrils. He knew what those marks were. He’d seen them on Gabe a time or two when he came in from dealing with street gangs while keeping the peace. 

His thumb danced just outside of the blotch of blue and purple at Hanzo’s abdomen. Kidney shot. His gaze dropped to the one on his chest. Heart shot. Whoever it was, they wanted Hanzo dead, and the only saving grace was that he’d been wearing a bullet-resistant vest. 

_“I thought they gave you a bulletproof vest! What happened?”_

_A horrified teenage Jesse gaped upon seeing shirtless Gabe in the laundry room, torso peppered with heavy bruises and a bandage wrapped around one bicep. Gabe pulled out a clean shirt and tugged it on with a grunt of pain._

_“Bullet-resistant,” Gabe corrected, reaching out to ruffle Jesse’s hair with a fond half-smile on his face. “Means you still get hit, but you don’t get dead. That’s the idea anyways. Physics is a bitch, by the way. Just because the bullet stopped doesn’t mean the rest of the force is stopped too. Shit’s gotta go somewhere, and I was that somewhere.”_

_Jesse ducked away from the hair-ruffles with a scowl, pissed off that his dad acted like it wasn’t a big deal. “You’re still hurt!” he protested. Gabe just grinned at him, and he didn’t understand the look in his eyes until Jesse would see the same sort of marks on one Hanzo Shimada’s body. “But I ain’t dead, kid.”  
_

“-se? Jesse?” McCree blinked water out of his eyes, Hanzo’s fingers stilled on his scalp as shampoo ran down his neck and shoulders in rivulets. “Sorry,” Jesse muttered leaning back into the spray and tipping his head back to rinse his hair. 

“...I should explain…” Hanzo said reluctantly, as though getting even those words out was like dragging wild horses across a river. Jesse shrugged and reached for a bar of soap on the caddy. “Don’t gotta if you don’t want. I know enough.” 

Hanzo gave him a strange look, measuring and a bit apprehensive. Quirking a grin that was 90% bullshit, Jesse soaped up, clearing the grime and sweat from his body. “One of my dads is retired military, and the other worked in law enforcement until he decided to go the marginally safer route of private security. I know what it looks like when you get shot through a graphene vest.”

Hanzo’s gaze went pensive, as if he were reassessing Jesse’s intelligence. It was a bit of a bitter pill to realize that even Hanzo thought him simple at best and stupid at worst. Maybe that was why he added a touch sharply, “And I know what the name ‘Shimada’ means in the underground. So you don’t gotta say anything, cuz I won’t neither.” 

It was a little satisfying to see the barely-suppressed shock in Hanzo’s eyes, even though Jesse knew that if all his fuckups before hadn’t blown what he and Hanzo had going, this sure as shit would. “And I ain’t as dumb as everyone thinks, so when my yakuza Dom orders me to not go home, that means someone’s after him, and probably me by association. And that scares the shit outta me alright? And I’m willing to bet it scares the shit outta you too, else you never woulda invited me over otherwise.” 

“That is incorrect.” Hanzo interrupted him, snatching the soap from Jesse’s mitts and pushing him to turn so that he could soap up his back. Jesse turned only mildly reluctantly. “Only regarding the last part, however. Yes, I am yakuza. Yes, I was shot at. Yes, I feared for your life and ordered you here instead of letting you go home where your security measures are so paltry as to practically be nonexistent!” Strong fingers dug into Jesse’s back, half reprimand and half deep-tissue massage. “But if I had not invited you over tonight, it would have been soon, because you have wormed your way into my mind and my heart, and I dislike sending you home every weekend, knowing that I will not be there with you.” 

Jesse’s brain went quiet at that, everything else drowned out by Hanzo’s confession. 

“I...you…?” 

Hanzo set the soap aside and sluiced water down Jesse’s back, catching all the soap as he rinsed him. “Yes.” Hanzo replied curtly. 

“Oh.” 

The water was shut off and Jesse turned slowly, regarding Hanzo with a lost sort of look on his face and turmoil and elation warring within his lungs. Hanzo looked...well he looked tired, and a little vulnerable which struck Jesse more than anything else. 

“C’mon sweetpea,” he murmured, stepping close and catching Hanzo’s chin in his jaw, stealing a kiss. “Let’s get dried off. You still plannin’ on makin me dinner?”

“Only if you cease with your infernal nicknames.” Hanzo grumbled. 

McCree laughed as he stepped out onto the bath mat. “Now I reckon that ain’t too likely, especially if you keep romancing me, Mister Shimada.” Hanzo grumbled under his breath and threw a towel at Jesse’s face.

***

One borrowed pair of boxers and a too-short teeshirt later, Jesse pads into the living room, trying to tug the hem of the shirt down to cover his belly when something makes him stop dead in his tracks. 

“Uh...Darlin?” He called out, brushing damp hair out of his eyes. Is that...what he thinks it is? It looks back at him and one ear flicks his direction, nose twitching.

Sure seems like it.

“Hm?” Hanzo asked, approaching Jesse from behind and wrapping arms around his waist. The silky robe he’d thrown on slides distractingly over Jesse’s skin, but he’s a touch preoccupied at the moment to really appreciate the sensation. 

“You know there’s a...uh...there’s a rabbit on your couch?” Jesse gestured towards the large white and charcoal bunny lounging imperiously on one end of the couch. It’s got pink eyes, which Jesse thinks is a touch unnerving, but it’s also got a soot-smudged nose and charcoal ears and paws, kinda like one of those expensive Himalayan cats, and it’s...pretty cute actually.

Hanzo hummed softly, peering around Jesse’s shoulder. “Well, that is her spot.” There’s a touch of laughter in his voice. “Moko, this is Jesse. Jesse, this is Moko.” 

“...you...have a pet bunny rabbit?” Jesse asked, voice dry as deserts. Hanzo stiffens slightly behind him. “Do you have a problem with her? Because between you and her, McCree, she is a much better conversationalist.” He can nearly feel the defensiveness and turns in Hanzo’s arms, giving him a grin. 

“Naw. She’s real cute. Just didn’t see you, Mister Yakuza badass, bondage-loving Dom as a bunny-guy,” he teased. “I think it’s real sweet though. Who knew you had a soft side?” 

Hanzo pinched Jesse’s sides again, eliciting a squirm from the cowboy. “You will be silent, boy, or I will gag you while I cook.” 

Jesse’s eyes darkened with lust as he leaned in, biting roughly at Hanzo’s ear. “That a promise, Sir?” 

The sharp swat to his still-bruised ass was enough of a response for him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> BUNNIES ARE FUCKING GREAT OK? FIGHT ME.


	12. Tamed and Attained

Dinner was an enjoyable affair, what with Jesse cooing delightedly over his cooking and Hanzo basking in the simple pleasure of having his brat of a boy here with him in a more casual setting than either of them had experienced. 

Jesse, it seemed, was full of surprises - to the point where Hanzo really thought he should cease being surprised by now - and proved to be a delightful dinner companion, relating stories of his troubled youth and how Jack and Gabe had (forcefully) set him on the right path and had set him up with riding lessons as an incentive to keep his nose clean. Hanzo told him what he could about growing up in Hanamura with a strict family and a legacy to uphold. He didn’t mention the strain it put on him and his brother’s relationship, but did tell tales of Genji being a shit much to the entire family’s exasperation and Hanzo’s (very) private amusement.

They talked about how they got into Scene (Jesse on accident with a kinky high school boyfriend, and Hanzo on purpose for the need to control someone without his money or position involved), and swapped stories of their family members finding out about their proclivities in embarrassing situations. 

By the time plates were emptied and they were well into their second shared bottle of wine, Jesse had scooted his chair around to lean his head against Hanzo’s shoulder, the weight growing slowly heavier as his cowboy dozed off. Not being entirely sober, nor of an inclination to move, Hanzo sat in the stillness of the dining room, listening to Jesse’s steady breath, and wondered if he really deserved this. 

***

He asked himself the same question the next morning once he’d gotten over the surprise of a hot mouth on his dick and a very eager Jesse burrowed beneath the blankets and snuggled up between his thighs. Hanzo groaned and spread his legs wider, earning a low chuckle and a renewed suck over the head of his cock. “You are a menace,” Hanzo rasped, hands diving beneath the covers to fist in McCree’s hair, not to pull him off, but more to hang on for the ride. 

Jesse hummed his agreement, tongue pressing into the slit of Hanzo’s prick, the sensation sending a jolt through him, breath hitching as he gasped for air. “Jesse….” Hanzo breathed, reluctantly letting go of his lover’s hair to shove the covers back so he could look down at the sight, chest pulling tight at the vision. 

The cowboy slid lips off his cock and down the shaft, nuzzling and licking at the space just above his balls, hair sleep-mussed and eyes full of lazy lust. “Wanna ride you, darlin,” Jesse crooned, palming Hanzo’s testicles. Hanzo was helpless to do anything but nod, gesturing towards the nightstand. “Lube and condoms,” he murmured, hooking a finger under the handle and tugging it open without letting his gaze falter from the vision before him.

It was different than when he was in charge, Hanzo mused as Jesse rifled through the drawer for the requested items. He didn’t mind letting Jesse take the lead like this - not everything had to be about roles and rules - and it was nice to lay back and let his lover play however he wanted. 

Strong hands grasped Jesse’s thighs as the man straddled his hips, coating fingers in lube and reaching behind him, their cocks brushing against each other as he moved.. Hanzo was torn between wanting to watch Jesse finger himself open, and watching the play of expression over his face as he fingered himself. Eyebrows drawing together and then lifting, lips parting, a soft sigh of pleasure, a lazy glance full of heated desire. 

Hanzo’s cock twitched and he decided there would be other times to watch Jesse’s hole bloom open beneath the assault of slick fingers. This felt more intimate somehow, and the look Jesse graced him with once he deemed himself open and ready was more than worth it. Tearing open the foil on the condom with the assistance of his non-lubed hand and his teeth, Hanzo watched mesmerized as Jesse rolled the rubber down his length. 

“You are…”

 _Stunning. Handsome. Delicious. Bratty. Perfect._ Every adjective fell short when it came to the task of describing the feeling that coiled deep in his lungs whenever he looked at his cowboy. 

Words failed him entirely when Jesse gave him a grin and a wink before rising up onto his knees and shifting up, guiding Hanzo’s member with one hand to his entrance. McCree sank down on him slowly and they moaned in tandem, Jesse’s face a picture of bliss and Hanzo’s muscles tensing so that he didn’t move before Jesse was good and ready for him to move. 

Velvet-slick heat engulfing his dick rippled around him, Hanzo’s head falling back onto the pillows, strong hands clutching and groping at the thick muscle and bit of fat that surrounded Jesse’s hips. Some of the pressure around his prick eased and then Jesse was rocking over him, hips rutting in little short thrusts that were just this side of maddening. 

“I thought...you were going to...ah… _ride me_ , cowboy,” Hanzo growled, pulling Jesse’s hips down over him roughly and grinding his hips upwards. He wanted to let his lover play, but he should have counted on him being an incorrigible tease. Jesse’s eyes flared with challenge, palms flattening themselves along Hanzo’s pecs, careful to avoid the dark bruising over his heart. 

“Well see now, you were actin’ so docile, I was starting to think I’d wrangled a gelding instead of a stallion,” Jesse goaded, the playfulness in his gaze nearly mitigating the spike of indignant offense that flared bright in Hanzo. 

“A gelding?” he bellowed in mock-anger, fingertips digging meanly into the meat of Jesse’s hips. “I will show you a _gelding_ , foolish cowman.” With a buck of hips that nearly unseated his smart-mouthed brat, Hanzo let go of his careful facade of control, giving it over entirely to lust. Jesse’s yelp of surprise was more than enough victory for him, but there was something to be said for proving a point. 

With each forceful thrust of hips upward, Hanzo jerked Jesse down over him, muscles contracting and burning in the sweetest way as he fucked up into his boy brutally, hips slapping and lube squelching with the force of his rutting. There was no more room for sass or teasing then, it was just the heated scrabble of bodies writhing against each other as they sought their peak in one another. 

When Hanzo fell to the inevitable coil and surge of pleasure, he stilled, and if he shouted Jesse’s name, it was lost in the gasped breaths and low groans of pleasure that permeated the air. 

It wasn’t the first time he’d seen Jesse cum before him, but it was still somehow more satisfying than each time before. Maybe it was the way his insides clenched down on his spent cock, or the way hazel eyes fluttered, hazy with lust and utterly brimming with something Hanzo dared call love…

In the aftermath, once bellies and thighs had been wiped clear of most of their spend with the sheets, and the condom pitched into a nearby wastebasket, Hanzo held Jesse against him, savoring the languor. He pressed lips against a sweaty temple and came to the conclusion that this...was far more than he’d bargained for. 

He wanted to keep _this_. He wanted to keep _him_.

***

“Sir?” 

“Jesse, come in.” Hanzo opened the door to his lover, giving an appreciative glance over the strong frame that deliciously filled out the sleek suit he’d had tailored to fit Jesse exactly. It was a near-match to the one Hanzo wore, though Hanzo’s had a sort of blue sheen to the nap of the fabric, and a yellow silk tie with scalloped patterns in gold. Jesse’s was red, of course - it was such a good color on him - and Hanzo let himself preen that his boy looked so damn handsome for him. 

“I thought you said we were going out?” Jesse said, shifting a touch awkwardly in the suit as he stepped inside. Once a cowboy, always a cowboy, Hanzo supposed. “Oh, we are, I just need to gather a few things. Have a seat, I’ll be ready momentarily.” 

He didn’t stay to watch Jesse make his way to the living room, instead covering his own anxiety by smoothing a hand back over his tied-back hair and resisting the urge to adjust his tie for the billionth time. A plain mahogany box waited for him on his nightstand, had been occupying the space for a week now, and had occupied a space in his mind for much longer than that. Fetching the box, Hanzo tamped down the flutter of nerves and schooled his expression into something more neutral than the look Genji would have described as “sheer terror”. 

As he made his way to the living room, he heard a low murmur with a Southern drawl and peeked around the corner, gaze softening and a smile curling his lips when he saw Jesse with Moko on his lap, murmuring endearing sentiments to the rabbit as she soaked up the attention of gentle strokes over her ears and forehead. Warmth replaced the cold coil of anxiety, softened the edges, so when Hanzo stepped into the room proper, he met Jesse’s gaze with confidence instead of trepidation.

“You are getting fur all over your pants,” Hanzo observed lightly. Jesse grinned, eyes flicking down to the box and then back up. “That’s what them sticky-rollers are for, ain’t it?” He was right, of course, and Hanzo joined them on the couch with only a soft hum of agreement. “Whatcha got there, sir?” Jesse questioned finally, maybe seeing some of the anticipation in the tense lines of Hanzo’s shoulders. 

“I have...something for you,” Hanzo managed after a moment. “It’s...you are not required to accept it. I hope you will, of course, but I will understand if you find such a token...unwelcome.” Cursing himself for babbling, he gave up on explanations and lifted the lid off the box so that Jesse could see the brown leather collar nestled within, inlaid with a delicate pattern of turquoise and silver. Hanzo made himself look up at Jesse’s face before continuing, drawing some courage from the stunned look that had lips parted in awe. 

“Is that...what I think it is?” Jesse breathed, barely daring to move, as far as Hanzo could tell. He could relate, honestly. It felt like any wrong movement would shatter the moment and he’d wake up in bed with a rabbit sprawled over the other pillow instead of Jesse’s brown hair. 

“Yes. I’ve-you have come to mean...a great deal to me. I should...like to make our relationship…” 

“Yer offerin’ me a real collar.” 

“Yes.” Hanzo exhaled in relief once he realized that he would be spared having to put into words just how he felt for Jesse McCree - the untameable brat of Club Mercy - and that he wanted to make what they had more serious. 

“I always figured...you’d get bored of me.” Jesse said faintly, the tremulous words pulling Hanzo’s lips into a frown. “You’re just so...you’re this gorgeous, dangerous, competent Dom, and I always figured I was gutter trash, and you were this untouchable idol, so when you said you’d take me on under consideration I figured that was as good as it would get...I figured you’d eventually find someone better, someone classier, someone who’s not…” he gestured vaguely towards himself, the words riling Hanzo into a defensive growl. 

“You are exactly what I want and what I need, Jesse McCree.” Hanzo said sternly, commanding the cowboy’s attention. “You will not speak disparagingly of yourself again in this household.” The sharp rebuke earned a soft “yessir,” from Jesse, his boy’s head ducked and fingers barely daring to brush over the top edge of the collar. 

“If yer...if yer sure that I’m what you want, then I accept.” Jesse nudged Moko to hop off his lap before he sunk to his knees on the floor between Hanzo’s legs, tilting his chin up obligingly. “Please collar me, Sir.” 

Hanzo’s breath caught at the utter beauty before him, and admitted - if only to himself - that his hands trembled ever so slightly as he buckled the collar on his boy, encasing the strong lines of his neck in a symbol of Hanzo’s love and ownership. He admired the vision for a full minute before leaning in and pressing a kiss to Jesse’s lips. 

This was home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well it was a short but sweet ending of this part of the story. Like I mentioned before, I have much more planned for these boys in the future, but I wanted to get this part of their story up and finished before I work on other things. 
> 
> Many MANY thanks to two people in particular who have kept me going through this story: the fabulous Kembrelu who comments here and sends me encouraging notes on Tumblr, and the outstanding Mianewarcher who's done seriously some fucking amazing artwork for the series. 
> 
> Feel free to message me with questions/comments/ideas, all that jazz. You can also find me being inappropriate on Tumblr at kestrel_sama.tumblr.com. 
> 
> Kink safely and with joy, my friends. <3 
> 
> ~Kestrel

**Author's Note:**

> This fic was mostly inspired by the fact that I was super fucking tired of seeing all these McHanzo fics where Hanzo was a delicate whimpering flower who needed a big strong cowboy to fuck him. Also I needed an excuse to write shibari.


End file.
